


The Ongoing Adventures of Meghan

by FebruarySong



Series: The Adventures of Megolas [2]
Category: The Lord of the Rings (Movies), The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-08-18
Updated: 2017-07-14
Packaged: 2018-02-13 18:16:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 31,492
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2160333
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FebruarySong/pseuds/FebruarySong
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sequel to "The Awkward Adventures of Meghan Whimblesby." After surviving the War of the Ring, Meghan and Legolas go to Mirkwood the build the rest of their lives together. But things never go quite as smoothly as planned...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Meghan's side was on fire.

More than on fire, actually – it was being torn apart, rubbed with salt, kicked, cut, shredded. She felt lesser pains in one knee, across her face, on her arms, but nothing, _nothing_ as bad as the profound agony in her side. She looked at her hands, and they were dripping crimson.

 _Am I lying down?_ It was hard to tell. Something heavy pressed against her back. _No, wait, that’s the ground. I am lying down._ Thinking felt sticky. She could taste bile in her mouth. Her head throbbed. Her side flamed and roared and _it hurts so much please make it stop._

She could hear noises, swords against swords and hoarse Orcish voices and feet beating against the ground. It seemed to be dwindling into the distance, or was that her hearing fading away? She opened her mouth to cry out and found that she was too tired. Darkness blurred the edges of her vision, crackled with pulsations of color that matched the throbbing in her side.

 _Why does it hurt so much?_ she wondered. She remembered in flickers, a playback broken by fractals and strobe lights and static. They had reached the edges of Mirkwood just as night fell, so they set up camp and she had drifted off to sleep. A guttural scream, a swarm of mountain goblins, the confusion, a battle. The sudden punch of agony in her side – an arrow lodged just below her ribs.

She tasted iron and acid on the back of her tongue as she tentatively reached out with her fingertips to feel the arrow shaft disappear into her stomach. _It’s barbed,_ she thought calmly. _I am so sleepy._

“ _Meghan_ …”

The voice came from a great distance, and sounded like a whisper even though she knew it must be a shout. Someone was kneeling beside her, shouting while she was trying to go to sleep. She angrily pushed away.

“My Meghan, be still… ai Elbereth!” The voice grabbed her hands and that’s when she started screaming, because she was being tied up and she had an arrow in her stomach and she had to get to Legolas—

“Legolas?” she choked, her throat raw with bile.

His hand was in her hair now. “You must stay awake, my Meghan,” he said. She could see tears on his lashes.

“It hurts a lot,” she said stupidly.

“I know,” he replied. “Gwaethir is coming in a moment, just stay awake.”

Drowsiness curled around her like a riptide. “I’ll only sleep for a minute,” she reasoned as her eyelids drifted closed.

“Meghan!” He grabbed her chin, jogging her awake. “No, my Meghan, _stay awake_.”

She stared at him, confused. The pain in her side would go away if she could just sleep it off, but Legolas wanted her to stay awake? It didn’t make sense. And now he was shouting for his brother in a voice that sounded like heartbreak and she wondered why he was so afraid.

\----------

He knew that Meghan's heartbeat was slowing down because he could see the blood pumping out of her in time with her pulse. He knew that abdominal wounds were particularly dangerous because if the internal organs were harmed, the body could poison itself from the inside out. He knew that Meghan was going to die if she didn’t stop bleeding. And he knew that he didn’t know enough to help her without possibly making it much, much worse.

“Gwaethir!” he shouted again, throat raw and hands shaking.

His brother finally appeared, throwing down a satchel and kneeling on the other side of Meghan in one swift movement. “How long?” he asked tersely as he tore a long rent in her shirt to see the wound more easily.

“Only a few moments,” Legolas replied.

“Keep her awake.”

“Meghan, come back,” Legolas implored. Her eyes roved blindly and her fingers feebly clutched at his jerkin. He grabbed her chin again, forcing her to look at him. “I am here. Stay with me.”

“I feel sick,” she said in a faint voice.

“I know, but you have to stay awake.” His hands were covered in her blood and he finally understood why she was afraid of it. Blood had never bothered him before, but seeing so much of hers made him remember anew that it was _lifeblood_. It was precious, and it was seeping out of her.

“The arrow goes deep,” Gwaethir said, “and it is barbed. I will have to break off the fletching and then push it wholly through.”

“ _Through_?” Legolas balked.

“To pull it out will surely kill her,” Gwaethir nodded. “Look. It sits low, under the ribs, and it is nearly out her back anyway. Trust me, little brother.”

For split second, Legolas hung in the balance. “I trust you,” he said.

“Turn her on her side.” Gwaethir dug through his satchel for a moment before handing Legolas a thick strip of leather. “And put this between her teeth.”

Meghan had drifted back into a half-world of glazed eyes and unsteady breathing. Legolas had to jostle her roughly to recall her attention. “You’re still here,” she said, surprised. He tried to be gentle as he rolled her onto the opposite side of her wound, but she still hissed in pain.

“Bite down on this,” he said.

“Why?” She shrank away, some part of her at least dimly suspecting his answer.

“So that you do not bite off your tongue,” he replied. “This will hurt very, very much.”

She meekly accepted the leather between her teeth and clenched her hands around Legolas’ own. He could see the tears already forming in her eyes, but he also could see her steeling herself. Her ability to master her panic and fear still surprised him. He glanced up at Gwaethir, and his brother nodded that it was time.

\---------

Meghan was screaming.

She wanted to fight back against the pain that flamed in her side as Gwaethir grasped the end of the arrow that protruded from her belly. Seconds lasted hours. Every nerve ending in her body radiated torment. She couldn’t see through the haze of tears, and she didn’t want to look anyway. Finally, after what must have been a hundred years, the arrow snapped just below the fletching and Gwaethir tossed the broken half away.

“Hold her steady,” she heard him say. “This will be worse.”

 _No!_ Meghan wanted to shriek but the leather got in her way. Before she could resist, Legolas pinned her arms down and wedged his foot over both her ankles, completely restraining her with his body. Then Gwaethir began to push the arrow through.

This pain was the worst of all. She tried to writhe away from the exquisite agony even as Legolas put more of his weight over her to keep her still. He was whispering something to her, probably words of comfort, but she couldn’t understand him over her own screams. She could feel every muscle, every nerve, every fibre tearing as the arrowhead pushed through her side, and then the skin on her lower back splitting open.

 _Stay awake,_ she wailed to herself, because that was the only coherent thought she had left to hang onto.

\----------

Once the arrow was completely out, Meghan stopped screaming and subsided into sobs. Legolas cautiously eased his weight off her, fearing she would start thrashing again, but she lay still other than the shudders that racked her body. Meanwhile, Gwaethir had pressed thick swathes of cloth over both wounds.

“She is strong,” he said. “That is a difficult pain to bear.”

“Will she—” The words stuck to the roof of his mouth, and Legolas had to clear his throat.

“The next few hours will tell,” Gwaethir said. “It is difficult to say if her internal organs were much harmed, and the arrow may have been poisoned. But see, the bleeding already lessens.”

As if on cue to the word _bleeding_ , Meghan threw up.

“Sit her upright,” Gwaethir said, not daunted in the least.

Legolas shifted back onto his knees, drawing Meghan with him. She sagged against his chest as her fingers fluttered uselessly across his back. Her breathing came harsh and uneven.

Gwaethir pressed a poultice over the wounds and then wrapped a heavy bandage around her torso. “I must go see to Urúvien,” he said. “He took a gash down the thigh, thought not so severe as this. For now, keep her still until the rest are ready to depart. We will move camp soon.” He gathered the last of his supplies and, with a nod, hurried away.

“We’re leaving?” Meghan mumbled thickly. Her gaze was flickering randomly around, and he noticed a red stain around the iris in her left eye – a burst blood vessel, probably from screaming.

“We must. There may be more goblins near, and we have not the numbers to oppose a larger pack of them. We will be safer in the forest.” Around them, the other Elves were working quickly so that they could leave, but Legolas was barely even aware of them.

Her voice dropped to a whisper as she struggled to maintain consciousness. “Then I like the forest.”

“I hope that you will come to love these trees as I do,” Legolas murmured against her hair. “My brother says the woods are whole again, and the corruption of Dol Guldor is no more. Would that you had come to my home in any way but this!”

“When are we going?” she mumbled. “I really want to sleep, Legolas.”

“Soon, my Meghan. Already they have begun to strike camp and saddle the horses.”

She sucked in a sharp gasp as he shifted her weight a little so that he could see her face. “I don’t feel good,” she croaked thickly. Her lips and the skin under her eyes had turned ashen, like the beginning of a bruise. “I want my mom.”

A pang of guilt hollowed out his gut, although it wasn’t his fault that she would never see her family again. She cut off his reply, however, by choking out a gurgling cough.

“Ouch,” she panted, her eyes rolling back a bit. “ _Hurts._ Ouch.”

Dread coiled sickly around the base of his spine. Despite himself, his hand shook as he reached out to touch her darkened lips, and wiped away the blood that had coated them. “Meghan,” he said, trying to keep his voice even. “I think perhaps I had better call my brother back for a moment.”

“Why?” she slurred just before her breath hitched in her throat, as if she was realizing something. “My mouth tastes weird.” She tried to lift a hand to her lips, but he caught it and gave her what he hoped was a reassuring smile.

“You must be still,” he said.

“It really really hurts.” Her eyes were luminous in the dim moonlight – and was he just imagining the grey pallor of her skin? “I think I’m going to die.”

“You are _not_ going to die,” he said, smoothing away a fresh tear from her cheek. “Your body is already healing. You simply need time.”

She replied by vomiting down his chest.

“Oh _nooooo,_ ” she moaned. “I barfed on you. I’m sor—” But she couldn’t finish her words, because she choked on another mouthful of blood and sick.

“Gwaethir!” Legolas shouted as he angled her face so that she wouldn’t suffocate on her own vomit. His brother reappeared with seconds, and knelt to assess Meghan where she lay half in Legolas’ arms. Gwaethir's face remained carefully impassive, an expression that Legolas knew he reserved for the most grave situations so that he wouldn’t frighten the patient.

“What ails her?” Legolas asked in a low voice.

“She _was_ shot in the stomach,” he replied mildly, although his mouth tightened as he peeled back the bandage from her abdomen to reveal a dark, sickly stain on the skin around her wound. He placed his hand flat against Meghan’s stomach, just above the discoloration. “How are you feeling, Meghan?”

She winced at the contact, then hazily refocused on him. “Twirly,” she whispered. “What’s wrong with me?”

“You are fine,” Gwaethir said, but Legolas knew differently.

Meghan wasn’t fooled, either. “No, ouch, hurts,” she wheezed, starting to hyperventilate. “This is—this is not okay—” She struggled to sit up, but both brothers gently lay a hand on her to keep her still.

“You must stay calm,” Gwaethir said. “I believe your stomach was torn or perhaps even ruptured by the arrowhead, and the wound does seem to have been poisoned.”

“What do we need to do?” Legolas asked quietly.

His brother looked grave. “I do not have the supplies to treat her properly. Were it a surface wound I could draw the infection out, but this goes too deep. I think it would be best to take her to Father. The hands of the king, after all.”

“Are the hands of a healer,” Legolas finished, and didn’t wait for any more information. He scooped Meghan into his arms and strode over to the horses. Arod whickered restlessly, dancing a little despite the long night without much rest.

“Wait, little brother,” Gwaethir said, following. “It would be unwise for you to ride ahead with her alone. It is still a full day’s journey at least, perhaps two.”

“If we remain with the company, it will be longer,” Legolas said helplessly.

“I did not mean that _Meghan_ should wait. You have not studied medicine as I have. Let me take your lady by the swiftest road, since I know how best to treat her along the way.”

There wasn’t even time for Legolas to think through this option, because Meghan sucked in a deep, choking breath and turned her head away just before throwing up again. She followed this with a wet sob.

“Take Arod,” Legolas said, grinding his teeth. “He is used to bearing two.”

Gwaethir nodded, already swinging up into the saddle. “She is going to be fine,” he said as Legolas passed Meghan up to him. “The first bout of illness is often the worst.”

“Guard her well,” Legolas said. He turned to Meghan, but she had already slipped into fever dreams. He pressed a kiss against the inside of her wrist, drawing comfort from the warmth of her skin and the thrum of her pulse.

“I will see you a few days, brother,” Gwaethir said, and with that he was gone.

\----------

Meghan drifted into a cacophony of sounds.

They were all innately familiar to her, but at the same time very, _very_ wrong. The caterwaul of sirens. Slow, steady beeping. A low rumble that she couldn’t quite place until, with a pop, she realized it was an engine. She opened her eyes.

She was in the back of an ambulance. 


	2. Chapter 2

The beeping suddenly intensified as she shot upward with a huge gasp.

“Woah! Easy there,” an unfamiliar voice exclaimed.

Her head was pounding and she couldn’t quite get her vision to focus all the way. She reached up to rub her eyes, only to realize that there was an IV taped to the back of her hand. Her first instinct was to pull it out, but the paramedic reached across her body and covered her hand with his own.

“Ma’am, you need to lie down,” he said, his voice all cheerful professionalism with that edge of _if you don’t do what I say than I will dose you with anesthesia so fast you won’t even feel your eyes close_.

“What…?” she managed to choke through the soreness in her throat.

“You had a nasty fall, and we are transporting you to the local hospital,” the paramedic replied, still tense. “We’ll be there in a moment, so if you’ll just lie down, please.”

“Where’s Legolas?” she slurred. Everything felt slippery and wrong, but the one thing that grounded her was that she wanted him and he wasn’t there.

The paramedic gave her an odd look. “I’m sorry, ma’am, I’m not sure I can answer that. Now, I just need you to lie back down and relax.”

“No, you don’t understand,” she said, her voice rising in intensity. “This isn’t right. I’m not here! How did I get here?”

“Alright,” the paramedic shrugged, and it seemed that he drugged her because she tumbled into a deep grey haziness. The next thing she knew, she opened her eyes in a very white, very square hospital room.

“…Honey?”

Just the voice was enough to bring tears into Meghan’s eyes. “ _Mom?_ ” she whispered, turning toward the sound. Her mother leaned forward, her well-loved and familiar face warmed by a smile.

“Hey, Megs,” she said as she reached over to press a hand to Meghan’s cheek. Meghan blinked back tears at the touch, reveling in the relief of simply having her there. Even the feeling of wrongness had faded away, because how could anything be wrong when her mother was holding her hand?

“What happened?” Meghan asked. “How am I here?”

“You tripped down a flight of stairs,” her mom replied with a sympathetic half-smile. “No broken bones, but you hit your head pretty hard at the bottom and passed out. Eight stitches.”

“No, that’s not what happened,” Meghan said slowly. “I’m not supposed to be here. I got shot in the stomach.”

“No, no you didn’t, honey,” her mom said, her brows drawing together. “No one shot you.”

“It hurt _really_ bad,” Meghan insisted. “We were just inside of a forest and we were ambushed. Legolas was too far away from me when the Orcs came—”

“Megs,” her mother interrupted. “The doctors warned us about this. I know you’re pretty confused right now, but it’s because you had a concussion. They said that this kind of head injury can cause some pretty wild delusions.”

Meghan felt like she had been punched in the lungs. “ _What?_ ”

“You’ve just been dreaming, honey,” her mom said. “You’ve been here the whole time.”

“But I was _there_.”

“It’s okay, Megs. It might take a little time to wake up all the way. You just gotta shake it off, like a nightmare.”

“It wasn’t a nightmare!” Meghan said. “I mean, parts of it were, but it was mostly good and it was _right_ and he was there…” An icy pulse of doubt coiled in her stomach, and she choked down the sudden, irrational urge to scream. “I didn’t dream him, did I? Oh my god, did I dream him up?”

“Dream who up, honey?” Her mother’s brows were wrinkled with confusion. “You’re not seeing anyone right now, not that I know about.”

“ _Oh my god_ ,” Meghan breathed out, hot tears forming in her eyes again. “None of it was real. It was a dream the whole time! He wasn’t real.”

Her mom’s face crumpled in compassion. “Oh baby, I’m so sorry,” she whispered as she crawled into the hospital bed and gathered her into her arms. Meghan clung to her, pent up sobs starting to wrench from her throat in shuddering gasps.

She was dimly aware of the room filling with nurses, probably because the monitors were beeping wildly or because her mother had pushed the panic button. All Meghan could do, though, was cry into her mom’s cardigan. It had all been a dream, and she had lost someone that she never had to begin with.

“…really needs to rest,” an unfamiliar voice was saying. “All this excitement could aggravate any swelling on her brain.”

“I know, I’m sorry,” her mom’s voice replied. “I’m not sure why she’s so upset.”

“We’ll have to medicate her,” a nurse said, sounding grim.

And Meghan faded away, back into unconsciousness.

\----------

When she woke up, the room was mostly dark. She could see the dim silhouette of her mother curled up on a flimsy recliner in the corner, sleeping with her head pillowed on her arms. Beyond that, sunlight peeped around the edges of the heavy blackout curtains on the windows, and Meghan guessed it must be an hour or two past dawn.

“Mom?” she whispered, guilty to wake her.

Her mother instantly stirred and blinked her eyes open. “Hey Megs,” she said in a sleepy voice as she reached up to touch the light switch. “How do you feel?”

 _She wants to know if I remember last night,_ Meghan thought, flinching away from the sudden light in the room. _Whether I’m going to be sad._

“My head hurts,” she replied, because explaining that her heart ached for a figment of her own imagination just seemed like too much work. “Can we go home soon?” Except, she wasn’t quite sure where home was anymore.

“I think the doctors just want to do a few tests with you before they release you,” her mom said. “I’ll call them in. It’s just routine stuff, like whether you can count to ten and stuff. They thought there might have been some swelling or something on your brain, but it was nothing. You’re not allowed to drive for four weeks, though.”

“Ok,” she said. The idea of driving a car instead of riding a horse seemed absolutely ridiculous, anyway.

Her mom was bustling around the room, a sure indication of how anxious she still felt. “I called your work and explained everything to them, and your boss said to take the time you need. You should get paid leave—”

“I don’t have a job,” Meghan interrupted.

“Well, then that’s news to me,” her mom said. “Are you telling me that you’ve actually been running a drug cartel for the last three years?”

“What? No,” Meghan said, wrinkling up her nose. “I just started college.”

“Honey,” her mom said as she gave her a startled look. “You _graduated_ college already. You’ve been working at a pediatrician’s office since two thousand eleven.”

“Two thousand _eleven_?” Meghan choked. “What year is it _now_?”

“It’s twenty-fourteen,” her mom said. “Don’t you remember?”

 _How much have I lost?_ Meghan thought with a sick chill in her stomach. “The last thing I remember… the last thing _here_ was being at school, and Andrea and I were doing some weird experiment in the lab, and I think I passed out.”

“That was seven years ago, honey,” her mom replied, and just then there was a brisk knock on the door. “Come in!”

A male nurse entered, smiling pleasantly and holding a clipboard. “Good morning, Mrs. Whimblesby. Good morning, Meghan. I’m Brian, and I’ll be taking care of you for the rest of your stay. How are you feeling today?”

“I’m twenty-six,” she said.

“I beg your pardon?” Brian asked.

“She doesn’t remember the last seven years,” her mom said. “Is that normal? I know she hit her head pretty hard, but… is she going to get those years back?”

“Memory loss is pretty common after a concussion,” Brian said, putting the clipboard down and moving closer to Meghan’s hospital bed. “Let me just page the doctor. All your brain scans looked great, but it never hurts to be thorough. Meghan, can you count up to forty using only even numbers?”

The rest of the morning passed in something of a blur to her. She had to go through countless mental clarity tests, all of which she passed. Finally the doctors agreed that there was nothing they could do and that her memories would likely return over time, and meanwhile booked her an appointment with a therapist for the following week. She signed all the documents they put before her and, after what felt like a month, walked out of the hospital with her mom.

“Andrea just texted me,” her mom said, looking down at her phone. “She said you haven’t returned any of her texts or calls.”

Meghan didn’t want to admit it was because she had no idea how to operate the smartphone the hospital staff had returned to her along with the rest of her personal effects. “I have a hard time looking at the screen for too long with this headache,” she said, although her head really didn’t hurt much anymore. “Can you tell her what’s happened?”

“I already did. She wants to know if you’re coming to your apartment, or if you would rather go home with me.”

“I have an apartment?”

“Yes, you and Andrea shared one right out of school. It’s cute, it’s on the third floor.” Meghan could tell that her mom was trying desperately to act normal for her sake – which she appreciated, because without her support she would probably run screaming into the night.

“If that’s where I’ve lived for the last three years, shouldn’t I go there? Maybe it will jog my memory,” she said.

“Sure, honey, if that’s what you want. Would you like me to stay with you there?”

In all the dark nights of homesickness, Meghan had only wanted her mom. But now, walking through the cold concrete parking deck filled with rows of cars, she needed to be alone. “That’s alright, Mom, but thanks. I’m still pretty tired, so I think I’ll just take a nap once we get there.”

The drive to her apartment felt weird. Meghan couldn’t relax at what seemed like the impossibly breakneck speed of the car, and the noise of traffic was a cacophony in her ears. By the time her mom pulled into a parking space in front of the apartment building, Meghan’s head was pounding again in earnest. She was hardly aware of her surroundings as her mom shepherded her up the stairs and into a small, tidy apartment.

“Andrea texted me on the way over that she begged off for the afternoon so she can come home sooner. She’s bringing lunch, said she would pick up your usual order.”

“Cool,” Meghan said, wondering what her usual would be.

“Your brother said he’s been trying to call you all morning,” she continued.

“Which one?” Meghan would never understand why her mother always used a generic _your brother_ when she had three.

“Evan.” She started digging through her purse to pull out her phone. “Look, he sent this recording and asked if it was an instant replay.” She tapped the screen and it began to play a video of an old man dramatically tumbling down a flight of stairs.

Meghan laughed despite herself. “Tell him he’s a jerk and he hasn’t changed at all in seven years.”

“Oh honey, I’m not gonna say that,” her mom said, waving a hand dismissively. “I’ll say you love him _and_ that he’s a jerk.”

“I’ll text him later. I just want to get settled first.”

“Are you sure you don’t want me to stay with you, Megs?” her mom asked. “I don’t feel right leaving you alone so soon out of the hospital.”

“I’ll be fine, really. But thanks. I’ll call you in a couple hours?” She knew her mom liked specifics, so she looked for a clock and picked an arbitrary time later that afternoon. “I’ll call you at four o’clock.”

“Ok, baby. Call me for anything. I love you so much.”

“Thanks, Mom. I love you to the moon and back.” Meghan reached out, and her arms were immediately filled with her mom. “When I was – when I was out, I thought I would never see you again. I’m so glad that you’re here. Give my love to dad, and tell him I’ll talk to him soon. At four.”

Her mom squeezed tight before letting her go and wiping away a rogue tear. “I will, honey. Four o’clock sharp, mind you.” And with that, she was gone.

The apartment felt hollow when the door clicked shut behind her. Meghan gingerly flipped on a light switch in the hall and poked open the first door she came across. It was a bedroom all in shades of blue, from the walls to the bedspread. Even though she rationally knew that she lived here, it still felt like an invasion of privacy to go in.

The room across the hall was another bedroom, which she immediately knew must be Andrea’s. She still even had some of the same furniture from college. It smelled like tea leaves and perfume, and Meghan wondered how much her friend had changed in the seven years. She quietly shut the door again.

Next was a coat closet, and beyond that a bathroom. The sight of the tub made Meghan remember how long it had been since she had showered. She went back to the blue room and pulled out a change of clothes before realizing that she had known which drawers to open without looking. _Maybe I’m getting some memories back…?_

Turning on the tap in the shower felt nothing short of magical. She couldn’t help but laugh as the hot water flowed over her hands. She quickly peeled off her clothes and stepped in, reveling in the sensation of _running water_. It was so easy to wash her hair – she could just tilt her head back under the stream, instead of tediously rinsing it in a basin.

The mirror was fogged up when she got back out, so once she dressed in a comfortable pair of sweats and a hoodie, she wiped some of the steam away with the corner of her towel. Her reflection startled her a little. The face looking back at her looked a little sadder and a little older than she remembered. She reached up to brush back some of her wet curls, and saw that her ears were rounded instead of pointed. _Don’t be crazy,_ she told herself firmly. _It was a very, very realistic dream. Your brain suffered trauma and that was the best way to process it. You are here, you are human, this is real life._

The apartment was too quiet as she padded back into the living room. She wished she could turn some music on, but weren’t any visible players and her phone was still too complicated to try yet. So instead she settled onto the couch, wondering where she could possibly begin to catch up.

Maybe she dozed off, or maybe she just got lost in her own thoughts, but it hardly seemed like any time had passed when the lock clicked open and Andrea breezed in, laden with bags.

“Got you chicken and broccoli with white rice, Jason Bourne,” she said as she threw her purse onto the ledge next to the door. “Wait, do you even remember Jason Bourne? Oh man, I am the most insensitive friend ever. How are you feeling?”

“Hungry,” Meghan said, grateful that her usual order was something she actually liked. How long had it been since she’d eaten Chinese takeout?

“Me too,” Andrea replied breezily as she brought the plastic bag of food over to the coffee table and plopped into the chair across from Meghan. “So what do you want to know?”

“What?”

“Your mom said you have amnesia. So what do you want to know? _Lost_ finally ended and it was really confusing.” Andrea had opened her carton and already started to eat, but that didn’t stop her from maintaining a steady stream of information. “Stefanie moved to New York City and got engaged to an investment banker who’s in his forties, which sounds gross but he’s actually pretty cool. Um, the Backstreet Boys got back together. And Fall Out Boy broke up and then got back together. Any of this ringing a bell?”

Meghan stirred her food. “No. Are you sure about the Backstreet Boys? I feel like I would remember that.”

“Also, Justin Timberlake got huge. Like, so famous, Meg.”

“Who’s Justin Timberlake?”

“Oh honey. We’ll have a crash course of the last seven years once we’re done with dinner. What’s the last thing you remember? If you’re okay talking about it, that is.”

She could see that Andrea had caught herself, and wondered how much her mom had told her about the way she woke up. “I remember that awful intro to biology lab that we had to take – the one like a high school lab? It was the day we dissected piglets, and the blood made me sick so I made you do all the hard stuff.”

“You passed out that day,” Andrea said. “You hit your head so hard on the desk behind you that we all thought for sure you were dead. Oh man, that was our first semester of college! We were totally babies back then. What about before that class? Like, how clearly do you remember all that stuff?”

“Like it happened a few months ago,” Meghan said. “It’s like I passed out there in the lab, and woke up in Middle– well, woke up in…”

“…the hospital?” Andrea tried to prompt her.

“Yeah,” Meghan finished lamely, because it seemed like her mom had kept her secret of crying over the fictional dreamscape that she’d lived in for what seemed like months. “Listen, Andrea, I actually don’t think I’m up for this. Do you mind if we just watch a movie or something?”

“Sure. I’ll clean up.” She stood and scooped the now-empty cartons off the table with a reassuring smile. “Movies are in the cabinet beside the TV. Pick whatever you like.”

“Thanks,” Meghan said, unfolding herself from the couch to start rifling through the DVDs. “Did anything really good come out in the last seven years?” She shifted aside one stack and began sorting through the next. They were mostly rom-coms, with a sprinkling of action or documentaries mixed in. Most of them were already familiar to her, but she wanted something new.

Andrea spoke loud enough that she could be heard from the kitchen through the hall. “Sandra Bullock was in a great one last year, I think we have it. And there was a cool BBC series that I just got in the mail last week…”

Meghan’s hearing seemed to grey out as all her attention focused in on the DVD case in her hands. She suddenly felt nauseous, and was it just her imagination or did her stomach hurt, just below the ribs? “What is—” Her voice cracked, and she tried again. “What’s this movie?”

“Hmm?” Andrea’s head popped around the corner and Meghan tilted the cover so she could see it. “Oh! That’s the second Hobbit movie. I special-ordered the cover with Legolas and the Mirkwood gang on it. Meghan – oh my god, Meghan are you…”

She could feel herself falling, although strangely it felt more like floating upward into a thick, syrupy ocean. The last thing she was aware of was Andrea shaking her shoulder before she tumbled into oblivion.

The next time Meghan woke up, she was in hell.


	3. Chapter 3

The first sensation that returned to her as she came to was that she had screamed so much that her vocal cords felt like shards of glass. Then in a rush the rest of the pain flooded back in, and she tried to scream again. She wanted to physically fight back against the agony pulsing through her body, but she realized that strangers dressed in grey were holding down her arms and legs.

That only made her wilder to get away. It felt like the insides of her entire body were being sucked out of her lower abdomen and everything _hurt_ and she was never, ever going to be safe again. She kicked out and arched her back, straining to pull away. _Where is my mom? Where is Legolas?_ It hurt to breath, but she couldn’t stop gulping in deep gasps of air as the tears started again.

One stranger, an impossibly tall Elf man whose hands were hovering above her stomach, barked a quick order to someone. The words sounded half-familiar to Meghan, like she had heard them before – but she was too exhausted and frightened to puzzle them out. She twisted away from the man’s hands, because it seemed like that was the source of the pain in her stomach.

Just then a dark-haired woman appeared at her shoulder, looking grim. She pinched Meghan’s nose shut and extended a cup to her lips.

“ _No—_ ” Meghan shrieked despite the agony on her raw throat. She turned her head as far to the side as she could, desperate to avoid whatever drug they wanted to give her. It didn’t matter – the cup followed her, and even though she held her breath, after a moment she had to choke down the tasteless medicine or suffocate herself.

Even as the bitter liquid settled into her stomach, she could feel its effects. Her limbs became heavier and her vision blurred, and after three heavy heartbeats thudded in her ears, she fell asleep.

* * *

 

For the first time in what felt like ages, Meghan was not afraid as she slowly bubbled toward consciousness. The room was quiet and infused with a warm amber light, and she was lying back in a wonderfully fluffy bed. It took an enormous effort, but she managed to tilt her head a little. Sitting in a chair beside her, the tall healer from before was reading an exquisitely bound volume on what appeared to be botany.

He must have noticed her stirring, because he looked up from his book at her with eyes so blue that they looked like a clear sky reflected on ice. In her sleep and drug addled state, Meghan had the absurd urge to touch his eyebrows.

She tried to ask if she could, but all that came out was “Hrmg?” _No – what – you can’t touch his eyebrows_ , she thought. A moment passed as he waited for her to come out of her fog. Finally she remembered how to speak and managed to slur, “Where’m I?”

“In the healer’s wing of Nídhrond,” the man replied. His voice was rich and measured, and though he didn’t quite speak slowly, there was a weight to each word. “Gwaethir delivered you here, and I drew the poison from your wound.”

She unconsciously reached for her stomach, and felt the lump of bandages there under the light nightshirt she wore. “It hurt a lot.”

“You fought us fiercely for one so gravely ill.” A hint of a smile quirked the corner of his mouth, but she couldn’t decide what it meant. “It was necessary to medicate you. Had you continued to struggle, you would have undone the healing we began. You were very near to death.”

 _Was that meant as an apology for force-feeding me knockout drugs?_ “Thank you for saving me,” she said. Then she hesitated, somehow afraid to hear the answer to her next question. “Where – where is Legolas?”

He regarded her silently for a moment, his eyes inscrutable. “We expect him and the rest of the company by nightfall.”

“So he’s real,” she whispered.

The look he gave her was half a question and half a frown. “Yes.”

Something inside her uncoiled a little at his words. She couldn’t clearly remember anything after the horrible surge of fear when the Orcs first attacked, but she instinctively knew that waking up so peacefully just now had cost her something. Still, she didn’t really have a choice other than to trust this man. She relaxed back into the pillows, willing herself to stay calm.

“You should not sleep again until this evening,” the healer said. Though he phrased it as a suggestion, it was clearly meant as a command. “I will have books sent here if you care to pass the time by reading.”

“Actually, I’m mostly just hungry. And I can’t read the Sindarin letters yet anyway.” She caught herself, remembering she was supposed to be an Elf from Rivendell and there was no reason that she couldn’t read. “I mean, my head hurts too much to read yet.”

He smiled as he stood, and Meghan had the uncanny feeling that he saw right through her deception and tolerated it anyway. “I will send to the kitchens for a suitable meal. You must eat light, for your stomach was torn by the arrow. It may be some weeks before you are fully recovered.”

“But I will be alright, won’t I?” She hadn’t meant for it to sound so childlike.

“Yes,” he replied patiently. “The arrowhead was infused with a wasting poison that had begun to defile your blood. You may feel that your strength is somewhat diminished for a time, but that will pass.”

“Okay,” she breathed, nodding.

“Lie still for now. Your wounds are still knitting together again. If you want for anything, pull that cord and someone will attend to you.” By then, he had gone to the door and opened it.

Meghan turned to see a little silvery cord suspended by the head of her bed. It seemed impossibly lavish to have a personal bell, until she remembered that she was betrothed to a prince of the realm and this was probably a private room for convalescing royalty.

“Thanks,” she said, but she turned back only in time to see the door close as the tall healer left. _How am I ever going to stay awake?_ Meghan thought, glancing around the room. It was beautifully appointed, but the dim lights and faint herbal smell had already made her sleepy.

An Elf woman brought in a tray of food a little while later, but she didn’t seem to speak the Common Tongue and Meghan could only manage an awkward _thank you_ in Sindarin. The food really was as light as the healer had promised – a soft roll, a sweet apple already thinly sliced, and a small portion of something like clotted cream.

She spent the rest of the afternoon fighting to stay awake. Now that she was alone, the ache for Legolas grew to be almost intolerable. She knew he must still not be back yet, because he would come to her as soon as he could. But as the time stretched into hours without even the sound of footsteps outside the door, Meghan began to wonder if she had been forgotten. Surely there must be news!

She had just dozed off when she startled awake by the sound of the door opening. Her heart soared up for a split second until she realized it was Gwaethir, looking apologetic.

“Hey,” she said sleepily, trying to mask her disappointment.

“How do you feel?” he asked as he fully entered the room.

“Good. Better.” She brushed the hair out of her eyes. “What time is it?”

“Just after sunset.” He had gone to a chest of drawers on the far wall and began sorting through it, pulling out various items.

“Where’s Legolas?”

His hands stilled for a split second, and Meghan’s breath suddenly felt heavy in her ribcage.

“Is he okay?” she asked, a little shrill this time.

“He seems to be delayed,” Gwaethir said, quickly turning to face her with a placating expression. “There could be any number of reasons the company is overdue. Remember that Urúvien took a wound akin to yours.”

“But he’s real,” she insisted, although she still wasn’t sure why it was so important to make certain again. “Legolas is real, right? I haven’t been dreaming?”

“He is as real as you or I,” Gwaethir replied with a look not unlike the healer’s from before. “But I cannot speak for your dreams. You spoke strangely while your fever was high.”

“I don’t really remember,” she lied. Flickers were coming back to her, although they were more like single snapshots instead of full memories.

He went back to the drawer. “I am sorry that your awakening during the healing was so difficult. You had been comatose while I rushed to the city, but as soon as my father laid hands on you to draw out the poison, you woke in great pain.”

“It doesn’t hurt much now,” she said. “Only when I move too much. Wait – your father?”

“Yes. There is some old power that lends a king greater potency to heal within his kingdom. That is why we hastened here, for I feared your ailment was beyond my skill.”

“That tall guy is your dad?” Meghan couldn’t even process the healing thing – she could only focus on who had done it.

“My father _is_ very tall,” Gwaethir replied. By then he had gathered all his supplies from the drawers and come to her bedside. “Did you not know it was he when you spoke with him earlier?”

“No.” She was trying to remember what she had said to Thranduil and whether she had done anything foolish.

Gwaethir smiled at her. “Your concern is written plainly across your face. Be at ease! A healer cannot help but bond with his patient, and my father is not often called upon to heal the beloved of one of his children. You have already made a very good beginning.”

“Okay,” she sighed. “I just – I just wish Legolas was here.”

“I am certain that the company will return soon,” Gwaethir said. “There is little that could keep my brother from you. But come, I did not visit you solely to talk. Your wound must be cleaned and the bandages changed. Can you sit up?”

“I think so,” Meghan replied. It hurt to use the muscles in her stomach, but she managed to push herself upright. She rolled up her shirt to make a gap between it and her leggings so that Gwaethir could see the wound. As he gently peeled the first bandage back, she turned away with a grimace.

“My sister is wild to meet you,” Gwaethir said in an easy tone, and Meghan knew he wanted to distract her.

“Oh?” she huffed through clenched teeth. Now that someone was messing with it, her stomach hurt horribly and it took a considerable amount of willpower to stay still.

“She would curl up at the foot of your bed like a cat if she could,” he said at the same time that he eased the second bandage off her back. She hissed in pain, but he continued speaking. “I think she is preparing a systematic curriculum of our personal family history for you. Name days, milestones, embarrassing stories – she will be your guide, though she is the youngest of our household and was not yet born to see most of what she is eager to share with you.”

“Couldn’t she come and visit me? I would love to have company.”

“She likely knows that it is better for you to rest,” Gwaethir replied. He had been working quickly while he talked, and now he pressed a fresh bandage over the entry and exit wounds. “Can you hold this against your belly for a moment?”

Meghan saw that he couldn’t hold the bandages and wind the extra length around her waist to bind them at the same time. Shuddering, she closed her eyes and put a hand over the dressing. She kept talking so that she didn’t have to think about how close she was to touching her own injury. “Your dad told me not to sleep until this evening.”

“It _is_ evening now,” Gwaethir said as he brushed her hand away with the bandage roll. “Your body still has much to mend. If you can sleep through the night, I think you will begin to feel whole again by the morning.”

 _I won’t feel whole again until Legolas gets here,_ she thought with an ache, but the thought was too lovesick to say out loud. “I’ll try,” she replied instead.

“There.” Gwaethir tied off the length of bandage. “Surely it is time for another meal. Have you a need of anything more?”

“Well to be honest,” she said, leaning back into the pillows, “I really need to pee.”

“That is a reasonable request,” he said with a face so serious that she knew he must be trying not to laugh. “I already meant to ask Nesseldë to attend you. I will do so now.”

“Thanks,” Meghan said. Although she still wasn’t particularly comfortable with the idea of being _attended_ , she didn’t think she could stand up and walk on her own yet.

Gwaethir had risen and taken away the old bandages. “She will bring your supper and help you with whatever you need. Sleep well, _tithennaug._ Your bonny prince will be delivered back into your arms by the time you wake.”

“He better be,” Meghan said firmly. “Or else I’ll just have to go and rescue him.”

“All the monsters from here to Ered Luin tremble at the thought,” Gwaethir said dramatically, halfway out the door. He gave her a fond smile. “Nesseldë will come in a moment. Good night.”

“Goodnight,” she replied, and then he was gone.

Sure enough, the same Elf woman from before returned, carrying another tray of food nearly identical to the first. She smiled tentatively and set the tray on the table beside Meghan’s bed.

“ _I eneth nîn Nesseldë,_ ” she said, and it took Meghan a long, bewildered moment to realize she had introduced herself.

“ _Im Meghan_ ,” she replied, struggling to remember basic Sindarin. Most of what she had learned with Legolas was vocabulary, but the grammar still eluded her.

Either the slim healer maiden didn’t need communication to know what to do, or she had been instructed not to talk much, because Nesseldë went straight to work. Meghan had never in her life been helped to the bathroom, and she fought down the humiliation that accompanied it. And though it felt good to stretch her legs, even the short walk to privy chamber and back left her grinding her teeth in pain. Nesseldë was a patient aide, though, and once Meghan eased back into bed, the healer gave her another reassuring smile.

“ _Posto vae, bainrodel_ ,” she said.

Now that the embarrassment was over, Meghan finally looked fully at her. She was tall, like all Elves, and had a warm, deep complexion and the most beautiful eyes Meghan had ever seen – green, flecked with gold.

“ _Hannon le,_ ” Meghan thanked her.

Nesseldë dipped her head and turned toward the door.

“Wait,” Meghan choked out. The healer stopped, her long, dark braid swinging as she turned her head back to the bed. Meghan wanted to ask if they would send her any updates they got about Legolas, but she couldn’t even begin to translate the question. So instead she just repeated her thanks with an apologetic smile, willing Nesseldë to read between the lines.

But Nesseldë nodded again, offered one more smile, and disappeared out the door.

Alone again, the room seemed very quiet. Meghan couldn’t tell if it was just her imagination, or if the lights had actually dimmed to a deeper twilight. She had absolutely no sense of what time it might be, and she shifted uneasily in her bed. Despite Gwaethir's reassurances, she couldn’t shake the twisting anxiety that had welled up in the pit of her stomach.

 _Legolas should have been here by now._ The thought made her chest ache. She wanted to get up, to pace, to wander the halls until she found him, just in case he actually _was_ in the city and couldn’t come to her. She knew it was a foolish wish, though, because she couldn’t walk far with her injury and she would get lost anyway.

Another thought dawned on her. The only people she had spoken to were Thranduil and Gwaethir, and they had sent a healer with whom she could barely communicate. And even though Gwaethir had passed it off as a trifle, Alassëa had not been to see her – perhaps not _allowed_ to see her.

 _Am I being isolated?_ she wondered with a sick chill. _Is it crazy to even think that? Gwaethir knows me – and I talked with all the guards on the way here from Minas Tirith!_ She remembered how cryptic everyone had been when she had asked about the Elvenking. Did he not trust her?

Every part of her wanted Legolas. Without him, this strange new place didn’t make sense. And she couldn’t shake that indefinable sense of loss – all she knew was that she felt hollow, and yet very heavy, both at the same time.

_Hurry back to me, Legolas._


	4. Chapter 4

Meghan had somehow rolled onto her injured side while she slept, and it hurt.

The throbbing woke her up, a pulsing ache that radiated from her lower abdomen through to her back. By then the lights really had dimmed to the point of only illuminating the edges of the room, although Meghan wasn’t sure if it was deliberate or if they had just burned low. She groaned, wondering how long she’d been asleep.

It felt like the middle of the night, so she heaved herself onto her other side and settled into the pillows. For a moment she considered pulling the silver cord to ask for an update about Legolas, but she reminded herself that it would be pointless. The best thing she could do was sleep so that she was rested when he and the other Elves got back. Wiping away a rogue tear, she curled deeper under the covers and closed her eyes.

The next thing she knew was that the bed dipped under someone’s weight, and she popped her eyes open to see Legolas sliding under the covers next to her. For one split second, it didn’t even register what was happening.

And then she burst into tears.

He immediately turned onto his side to face her, murmuring soft words in Sindarin as he brought Meghan’s hand up to his lips to kiss it – right on the inside of her wrist, where her pulse beat a steady rhythm.

“You’re okay,” she choked out.

“I am sorry that I was delayed,” he replied, releasing her hand so that he could wipe her cheek with his thumb. “Urúvien became so ill that we sheltered in one of the border watchposts until his fever passed.”

“But you’re _real_ ,” she sobbed, the tears coming harder now. “I didn’t—I didn’t know—” She couldn’t even get the words out. It finally hit her how overwrought she was, and how much she had suppressed her anxiety and confusion. Now that Legolas was here and she wasn’t alone among strangers, she could let her guard down – but she couldn’t stop crying.

“Of course I am real,” he said. Meghan wasn’t sure which one of them had moved closer, but she had practically wedged herself next to him. He curled his arm around her, careful to avoid her injury. “What caused this fear, my Meghan?”

“I don’t know,” she mumbled into his shirt, since she had buried her face against him. Being so close to him helped and after a few more deep breaths, she didn’t feel like panic was clawing up her throat anymore. She rolled back a bit, because even though he smelled wonderful it was getting a bit stuffy to have her face mashed into his chest. “Well, I mean, while I was unconscious I had the weirdest dream.”

He looked worried. “What do you mean?”

“It took me awhile to remember, once I woke up here, and I still don’t really remember everything about it. But I dreamed that I was back home, and lots of time had passed there, and _this_ was the dream,” she said. “It felt _so real_. Like, I had a job, and an apartment, and the Backstreet Boys got back together.”

“I do not understand,” Legolas said, his brow crinkling. “What are back street boys?”

“They’re a band,” she replied. His expression didn’t change, so she tried again. “They’re traveling minstrels? It doesn’t matter. I was back in my old life, and – and – my _mom_ was there. All these months that I’ve been here in Middle earth and I never dreamed about my family. I think – it just felt _so_ real, Legolas.

He had been listening intently, but at her last sentence he tensed. “How could that be?” he asked, his voice even.

“I don’t know,” she whispered. “But – what if it was real, and I’m still dreaming now?”

“You are not dreaming.” He pressed a lingering kiss to her lips, his mouth warm against hers. “Surely it was just a product of your fever. Urúvien’s wound was not so deep yours, and he spent the night in agony and confusion. I was sick with fear for you.”

“I’m fine,” she said. She didn’t know how to articulate how much she had missed him, so instead she just leaned forward to kiss him again. It was then that she finally noticed the faint dampness of his hair and the soft grey undertunic that he wore. “How long have you been back?”

“Nearly two hours,” he admitted. “My brother only permitted me a brief moment to see you when first I arrived, though you were still sleeping. Then he persuaded me to bathe and speak with my father.”

“Your dad is very tall,” Meghan said, instinctively scrunching up a little bit. “And I kinda wanted to touch his eyebrows.”

Legolas chuckled, and she could feel the vibrations of it in his chest. “When I was a child, I was fascinated by them. I wanted mine to grow in just like his.”

She squinted up at him. “I’m glad they didn’t. You would have been terrifying.”

He laughed harder this time, so Meghan pressed closer to him because she loved feeling it so much. _I want to stay like this forever,_ she thought, listening now to the steady tempo of his heartbeat through his shirt.

“What happened to Urúvien?” she asked after a moment. “Is he okay?”

“Yes, though it was a bitter night of recovery for him. His brother knows a little of medicine and eased what misery he could.”

“I’m glad he’s alright.”

Legolas just made a quiet agreeing sound and didn’t reply. His hand traced lazy circles on her back in a gentle, comforting pattern. Meghan shifted positions a little to get more comfortable against him. After a few minutes, she noticed that his breathing began to slow and deepen, and his hand dropped away. Instantly all she could think about was another place of healing, when he had taken the wound to his side after the Battle of Pelennor Fields and needed sleep to recover.

“Legolas,” she whispered.

He took in a breath through his nose as if rousing himself. “What is it, my Meghan?” he asked, definitely sounding drowsy.

“Are you falling asleep? What’s wrong?”

“I am only tired.” He reached behind his head to adjust the pillows. “As Urúvien recovered, spiders swarmed the watch post and gave us little respite.”

“Were you hurt?” She tried to inconspicuously examine him, which mostly consisted of running her hands up his torso to check for hidden bandages.

“No,” he said, flinching away with a laugh when she accidentally tickled his side. Then he actually yawned – he _yawned!_ – and Meghan almost choked on her own spit at how adorable it was. “But I have not rested since you were wounded and now I am weary. And this bed is very comfortable, and you are very warm…” Another yawn. “Though I wish you would not move your body _quite_ so irresistibly against mine.”

She smiled innocently as she slid her leg in between his knees. “What do you mean?”

“Do you know how many promises of propriety I had to make before I was allowed into your room unescorted?” He pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “We are in the wilds no longer. Here in my father’s court we will be closely attended. You will find a healer coming to check your bandages at least once an hour so long as I am in this room.”

“I know, I know,” she sighed, though she didn’t pull away. “We still have another ten months before our betrothal year is up. But it’s kind of adorable that everybody is afraid I’m going to steal your virtue.”

“I would give it to you at once if I did not fear my people’s censure,” he replied, settling deeper into the pillows.

 _Always so very proper,_ Meghan thought. But he looked so peaceful there, stretched out beside her with one arm trapped under her head and the other flung lazily across her waist, that she only wanted to let him rest. _We can talk about getting married another day._

“Goodnight,” she said as she kissed his chin, since it was the only thing she could reach without moving too far.

He tilted his head down to meet her, his lips warm against her own. “It is nearly morning by now.”

“Shhh, we only have about forty-five more minutes until one of your chaperones comes to check on us. Go to sleep while you still can.”

“Goodnight, then.” He closed his eyes and shifted onto his back, though he didn’t draw his arm from under her head. After a little while, his breathing evened out and he somehow got heavier, and Meghan tried to be very, very still so that she wouldn’t wake him back up.

At first it surprised her how quickly he fell asleep, until she figured that Elves were so in-tune with their bodies that they could probably just will themselves to sleep. Or maybe it was because he felt safe for the first time in days – or maybe it was just because he was finally home. Whatever the reason, Meghan was grateful for the steady weight of him beside her, someone she could anchor onto even though he was sleeping.

Now that she was alone again with her thoughts, the cold coils of doubt laced up her spine. This certainly felt real, with the dull ache in her side and the way Legolas’ chest rose and fell under her hand. But how could she have dreamed so vividly of her other life? Was it even possible that it was real, too?

 _Wherever I went, I’m back again,_ she thought. _And I hope that I stay here always._

After a little while, she heard footsteps outside the door – surely deliberate, since Elves walked silently even in their own halls. Then the latch opened, and she looked over to see Gwaethir poking his head into the room. Before he could speak, Meghan shot him the most discouraging look she could muster and shook her head a bit.

Understanding dawned across his face, and he moved slowly to approach them. On their journey from Minas Tirith, Meghan had taught him the meaning of a thumbs-up sign (to his great delight), and he used it now with raised eyebrows as if asking a question. And since he had taught her a similar signal for the Mirkwood Elves, she lifted her two forefingers up to the corner of one eye and brought them back to her ear. It meant _I can see, I can hear, all is well_ , which had been a much more palatable reason compared to Meghan attempting to explain that the thumbs-up originated from Roman emperors deciding who would live or die in the coliseum.

Gwaethir nodded in satisfaction at her response. Then something came over his expression that could only be described as wicked, and he broke into one of the most gleeful smiles she had ever seen. He gave her a look that dared her to stop him as he menacingly extended a hand toward Legolas while wiggling his fingers. It took Meghan a split second to realize that Gwaethir intended to tickle his sleeping brother.

She pointing a finger at him with the silent, scathing look usually reserved for mothers chastising their children in public – and it actually worked. Gwaethir moved away with a wink and grin, as if to say, _I didn’t really mean it._ She maintained the look long enough to make sure he backed all the way to the door, where he put his hands up in surrender. Then his expression shifted into a friendly smile, and Meghan knew the game was up and he had returned to his role as healer.

He raised one eyebrow at her as he opened the door and stepped halfway out of the room. She tried to convey _I promise that I won’t deflower the second son of Eryn Lasgalen between now and the next check-up_ in her expression, although an eye-roll was perhaps a bit much. He seemed to catch her meaning though, since he grimaced in feigned disgust at her as he closed the door behind him.

Glancing up at Legolas, Meghan wondered if their exchange had woken him. But he hadn’t moved except that his mouth had opened a little bit in the relaxation of sleep, and she thought, _I can protect you, too. Even if it’s just from your ridiculous older brother._

Whatever was left of the night passed quietly. Meghan couldn’t fall back asleep, and didn’t particularly want to anyway. Legolas had been right – someone came to check on them like clockwork, usually Gwaethir but once or twice an older-looking Elf woman that Meghan didn’t recognize, although she favoured Nesseldë in her features and dusky complexion.

Meghan waved them off each time, and though the lights in the room began to burn brighter again, Legolas did not stir. She had just decided that it must be fully morning when the door opened again, except this time the tall healer from before entered.

 _King Thranduil,_ she reminded herself as she fought down a panicky instinct to disentangle herself from Legolas.

The Elvenking’s face did not betray anything as he moved closer to the bed, and she tried very hard not to hide under the covers. He wasn’t looking at her, though; instead, his eyes were on his son. He reached out and then hesitated for a moment, before tucking a wayward strand of hair behind Legolas’ ear. It was done far more delicately than Meghan would have thought possible for someone who looked like he could cut down an army single-handedly, until she remembered how he had sat at her bedside until she woke while reading a book about flowers.

“You have been watching over him,” he murmured in that deep, thoughtful voice. It was spoken quietly enough that it didn’t wake Legolas, although he stirred a little and then settled again.

“Yes,” she whispered in reply even though he hadn’t really posed it as a question.

“He has not slept peacefully thus in many years,” Thranduil said. He sat once more in the chair by the bed, looking lost in thought. “When I sent him to attend the council in Imladris, I believed he would return swiftly to the eaves of this forest and that our lives would be little changed. And now all has changed, and the leaves are growing green again, and my son has found a maiden to share this renewed joy.”

Meghan thought of Thranduil’s wife who could not bear the darkening of her home and had sailed across the sea to escape it. She realized that she didn’t know what to call her, since to Legolas and Gwaethir she was simply ‘mother.’ _The King must miss her so much,_ she thought. _And how sad that she didn’t know that things would get better, and she had to leave before they did._

“What’s her name?” she asked. “Your wife, I mean.”

He looked at her for the first time since he entered, his face impassive. But Meghan was beginning to learn how to read him, and he crinkled his brow the same way Legolas did when he was surprised. “She was called Eleniel here, for all of Oropher’s folk took Silvan names when first we came to these trees,” Thranduil replied as his tone softened. “But for my part, she is Elarinya, the name she told me when I met her under the boughs of Doriath.”

Meghan thought perhaps he was about to open up to her about his wife, but instead he stood, once again a stern king.

“Are you well enough to walk?” he asked, brisk and businesslike.

“I think so,” she replied. It was probably time for Legolas to wake up anyway, so she carefully eased away from him and sat up. The motion jostled him enough that he blinked his eyes open, bleary for only the briefest second before he quickly took in the situation.

“Good morning, Adar,” he said as he also sat up. Despite feeling a little same way herself, Meghan bit down laughter at the panic-stricken politeness that Legolas fell back on at the awkwardness of his father finding him in bed with a woman.

“Good morning, ion nin,” Thranduil replied, his voice faintly tinged with humor. “I would speak with you both in the council hall. There is much that I would hear from you, if the lady is well enough to bear it.”

“My side hardly hurts at all anymore,” Meghan said, although she wondered how much walking would affect it.

“Then I will see you in half an hour.” With that, Thranduil swept out of the room, closing the door behind him.

“He will want to question you about your history,” Legolas said, folding the covers back and getting out of bed. “Gwaethir could tell me little of Father’s mind in this, only that he did not seem surprised when Gwaethir tried to explain why you spoke so strangely in your fever.”

Meghan wasn’t sure if she was ready to get out from the blankets just yet. “I feel like I’m about to go on trial.”

“We must speak the truth to him and hope that he accepts it.” He leaned across the space he had been occupying in the bed and pressed a kiss to her temple.

“What if he _doesn’t_ accept it?”

“Then we will find our friend Gimli among the stones of Erebor and petition his cousin the King for sanctuary,” Legolas replied with one of his sunny grins. “The horror of us living amongst the Naugrim would surely lessen my father’s doubts.” She laughed, and he kissed her again. “I must go to dress more appropriately, though I am loath to leave you.”

“I am loath for you to leave,” Meghan said as she began to ease out of bed. He hovered uncertainly at her elbow, ready to catch her at the first sign of unsteadiness.

“Are you certain that you are well enough?” he asked. 

She stood fully, testing the wound on her side with one hand. It still ached when she moved, but compared to the day before it felt much better. “I can’t even really remember how many days I’ve been lying in bed. I’m ready to get out of this room and at least see a little more of the city. I _promise_ I’ll take it easy,” she added at his worried look.

“Meghan, when you—” He paused, as if the words pained him. “When you lay in my arms, bleeding from a poisoned wound, I thought perhaps you would die.”

 _I did die,_ Meghan realized. _I think I died for a minute and your father brought me back._

Legolas looked like he was struggling to continue. Finally, he offered her a shy smile and said, “I am glad that you did not.”

“Me too,” she laughed, mostly because he had obviously meant to make a grand romantic speech and gotten a bit too choked up, so instead settled on _it’s cool that you’re alive_. “But remember what I said about crying and saying you love me? That’s all going to have to wait until I can marry you.”

He leaned down to kiss her, which she thought was an enormously unfair response. “Ten more months,” he whispered in her ear before planting a quick peck on her cheek. Just then, the door swung open and Nesseldë stepped in.

“Ai, díheno nin!” she exclaimed, absolutely mortified and moving to retreat.

“It’s okay,” Meghan said at the same time that Legolas said something in Sindarin to the same effect as he moved away from her.

Nesseldë suspiciously re-entered, looking for all the world like she expected them to consummate their relationship right there despite the fact that they were now at least ten feet apart. She clutched a bundle in her arms and gestured to it as she spoke to Legolas too quickly for Meghan to understand.

“She says that she has brought clothing for you,” he translated after Nesseldë finished speaking. “Though she apologizes if the fit is poor.”

“Hannon le,” Meghan said directly to her, then turned back to Legolas. “You should go get changed. I have a feeling we really shouldn’t be late.”

“I will return here so that I can show you the way. Hannon le, Nesseldë.” He gave Meghan a quick smile and Nesseldë a nod, and then closed the door behind him.

Nesseldë seemed to shake off her embarrassment and began to work with calm and efficient certainty. As before, she hardly spoke as she helped Meghan, but she seemed to know just how to support her without causing her stomach any pain. Within a few minutes, Meghan found herself out of her nightclothes and into a soft, pale dress. The draped sleeves were a bit too long over her fingertips, but Nesseldë folded them back and neatly set a few stitches to hold them in place. 

“Thank you,” Meghan said as she finished. “I mean, um, hannon le.”

“Galu andh, bainrodel,” Nesseldë replied, dipping her head, and Meghan thought perhaps she was wishing her good luck.

She was spared from trying to struggle through any more Sindarin by a knock on the door, and Nesseldë opened it. It was Legolas, now wearing what must be his guard uniform. Nesseldë dropped into a curtsey and slipped past him, and Meghan went to the door.

“You look very beautiful,” he said with a smile.

“Thanks, you too,” she replied, a little distracted. Seeing him dressed so formally reminded her of how much depended on Thranduil believing them. _He could think I’m completely crazy._ And even though Legolas had passed it off as a joke, she hated the idea of him choosing her over his family.

“Are you ready?” he asked.

Meghan took a deep breath. “Yes,” she said, taking his arm and shutting the door behind her.


	5. Chapter 5

“Didn’t you talk to your dad last night?” Meghan asked as they walked arm-in-arm through the winding hallways of Nídhrond. “Did he ask about me then?”

“We did speak briefly after I entered the city,” Legolas replied. “But we only discussed the situation with the spiders and little else. To be truthful, I was so eager to return to you that I could hardly countenance the thought of spending an hour explaining your presence.”

She bumped into him a little with a smile, wishing that they had gotten a few more hours together before being called away. “I’m glad you didn’t wait, either. I don’t know why I’m so nervous, your dad seems nice. Oooh!”

They had passed into an exposed part of the corridor, where one wall fell away to reveal a huge, warmly lit hall. Meghan stopped walking and put her hand on the last part of the wall for support as she took in the space. Across the cavern, she could see other paths against the rockwall, while another walkway snaked across the open space and connected to an island of stone in the center.

“My father’s throne room,” Legolas explained.

Meghan tore her eyes away from the enormity of the hall and turned to him. “ _Should_ I be nervous about your dad?”

“He and I have not always understood each other in the past,” he replied, putting her hand into the crook of his elbow so they could begin walking again. “But Gwaethir believes that he is already fond of you.”

They soon found themselves in enclosed hallways again. Meghan thought perhaps they were generally heading down, deeper underground, but her sense of direction was diminished since she hadn’t seen the sun in several days. Finally they stopped at a set of double doors, richly carved in the pattern of trees. Legolas paused instead of entering, and Meghan realized that he looked even more tense than she felt.

“He missed you while you were away,” she whispered.

Legolas gave her a grateful look, and opened the door.

The only point of reference that Meghan had for formal chambers were those in Minas Tirith, so she had expected Thranduil’s council room to be similar to Aragorn’s – plain walls with a long table to sit at. Instead, she entered a space that seemed to have been organically hollowed from the ground, with vaulted ceilings supported by pillars of beautifully wrought stone. There was a pool of still water to one side, and opposite that a table surrounded by five or six chairs.

The Elvenking sat at the head of the table, looking over a few loose pages. He glanced up as they approached and gestured for them to sit. Sinking into the chair next to Legolas, it occurred to Meghan that she was still much more tired than she expected after sleeping so much. It felt good to sit down and she let her muscles loosen in relief. In contrast, she could sense Legolas strung taut as a bowstring at her side. She considered slipping a hand under the table to squeeze his hands in his lap, but it seemed too risky that Thranduil would see it and think she was copping a feel.

“I would have you tell me of the forming of the Fellowship,” the king said, “and all your exploits since.”

 _Oh wow, I never heard where the Fellowship came from,_ Meghan thought. She just assumed that they were a super secret spy team assembled by a shadowy Nick Fury-esque character. And as she listened to Legolas explain the Council of Elrond, she realized that’s pretty much what happened.

It didn’t take long to get to the part where she joined the story. Legolas hesitantly described how they came upon a woman who seemed to be awakening from a dream, and how strange her tale seemed to be. Meghan tried to keep a casual eye on Thranduil without openly staring at him, hoping to gauge his reaction. But his expression did not change, even as Legolas said that Gandalf accepted what seemed to be impossible and allowed her to join them.

Thranduil did not interrupt at all through the rest of the narrative. Meghan had to bite back a smile at points, especially when Legolas omitted both incidents involved the tea. He did it so nonchalantly too – not even a glance in her direction.

The story reached a natural conclusion at the borders of Mirkwood. “The rest you know from our discussion last night,” Legolas said, then fell silent.

The King gazed at them both for a moment with cool blue eyes. Then he stood and went over to a small side table to pour just two glasses of wine. “The Captain of the Guard is waiting to debrief with you,” he said to Legolas, handing Meghan one glass and keeping the other for himself.

“…I do not understand,” Legolas said.

“The lady and I have more matters to discuss, and you are needed at your duties,” Thranduil replied calmly. “Captain Feren is best suited to explain the situation within our borders. Are you not curious to learn what has befallen in your absence?”

“Gwaethir has told me much,” Legolas countered.

“Gwaethir was gone for more than three months in his errand to Minas Tirith, and much has transpired in that time.”

Perhaps to redress the power imbalance, Legolas also stood, although he wasn’t quite of his father’s height. Meghan wondered if she should be the one to leave so that they could sort out whatever this skirmish was actually about. But it was all spoken so civilly that she couldn’t help but question if it was all in her head.

“Please do not ask this of me, Adar,” Legolas said in a low, even voice. “She is still healing, and I have been sundered from her for days.”

“Others have been sundered from their beloved for far longer,” Thranduil replied, and for a split second Meghan was reminded of Ioreth.

“I don’t mind,” she said quickly. “I really do feel alright, Legolas. When I’m sitting I can’t even tell that I was hurt. And I can’t keep you away from your duties – you’re a prince. Noblesse oblige… or whatever the Elvish version of that is.” There was a pause, the tension stretching into an almost palpable presence before it dissipated with Legolas’ next words.

“You are right,” he said as he turned to her. “If you feel well enough later, I hope you will permit me to show you more of the city.”

“I hope so too,” she grinned, but he didn’t return the smile. _Of course he’s gonna be_ ultra _-proper on front of his dad,_ she thought. She briefly wondered what Legolas would do if she kissed him full on the lips right then and there, until she remembered how much Thranduil scared her, too.

As it was, Legolas pressed a very chaste kiss to the back of her hand, offered his father a very serious hand-over-heart salute, and walked out the door with a very straight spine.

Thranduil sat back down and swirled his wine for a moment without speaking. Not knowing what else to do, Meghan took an experimental sip from the cup he had given her a moment earlier. It had a clear, bright taste, with the softest hint of alcohol that glowed pleasantly down to her stomach. She thought of how quickly the ale in Rohan had affected her, and she set the cup down.

“What happened between you two?” she asked suddenly before clamping her mouth shut in horror. _Am I drunk already? That is_ not _the kind of question to ask your future father-in-law, even if he did save your life a couple days ago._

“Much has occurred between us,” Thranduil replied, calm as the falling leaves in autumn. “And now it seems that my second son is more apt to obey _you_ than his king.”

Meghan could feel her neck and face getting hot. “Well, I asked him nicely,” she said, taking another sip of wine to keep herself from saying anything else.

“So you did,” Thranduil said thoughtfully. “I did not intend to discomfit him by sending him away. I simply wanted to hear your story from you alone.”

“What do you want to know?” Meghan asked.

“From whence you came, and how you came to be in Middle earth,” he replied.

“But Legolas already told you.”

“I would hear it from you.”

Meghan took a breath, gathering her thoughts. She started all the way at the beginning, that afternoon in the classroom at college – although she didn’t know how much Thranduil understood. He listened in silence as she explained the transition from one world to the next, and how her body had changed into that of an Elf instead of a human, and how she slowly adapted to Middle earth.

“Do you think I’m crazy?” she blurted out once she had finished. “Or lying—or—or—”

“I believe you,” Thranduil interrupted her.

“Really?” she stared.

“Some months ago, Lord Celeborn and Lady Galadriel came to the Woodland Realm and joined with me to finally remove the ancient evil of Dol Guldor. They took respite in my halls for a time after, and in that time the Lady spoke of you to me. She vouched for you and said that Mithrandir did the same. You would have to be cunning indeed to deceive the Lady of Lórien.”

Meghan felt like she was waiting for a catch. “Why did you ask me to explain everything again, then? Why not take her word for it?”

“I would be a poor king if I implicitly trusted another with something so precious to me as my child’s heart,” Thranduil replied, the corner of his mouth curving into something almost like a smirk. “I perceived how wholly Legolas loves you, and that he has given you the power to destroy him if you choose. How could I not take the weight and measure of your words for myself?”

“I wouldn’t— I don’t have the power to destroy him,” she said.

Meghan had often been on the receiving end of looks that clearly said _you are an idiot_ before, but the one that Thranduil shot her outclassed them all. He just blinked slowly and tilted his head a degree to one side, as if actively diagnosing her with brain damage and formulating a treatment plan.

“Okay, maybe. But I ­ _wouldn’t_ ,” she said quickly. “Thank you for believing me. I don’t understand how it happened, or why I was brought to this world, and I was so worried that you would banish me or something, and—” She realized she was rambling. “Um, thank you.”

“There are conditions for your presence in Nídhrond,” the King said.

“Okay.” _That’s probably fair,_ she thought.

“You will tell no one outside my family of your origin, since Gwaethir has already been told and it is inevitable that Alassëa will learn of it too.” He stood up and went back to the side table so that he could refill his wine. “Because you are essentially a child in the ways of the Elves, you will be tutored as such by one of my advisors, who will be told enough to understand your ignorance.”

“Tutored?” Meghan couldn’t help but ask.

“Yes, in the essentials. You are not yet fluent in Sindarin; how do you suggest that you convincingly integrate with my people?”

“I hadn’t thought of that,” she replied. “But when we were traveling from Minas Tirith, I just told the warriors that I was still learning the Common Tongue and had committed to only speaking it for six months so that I could pick it up faster.”

“And that worked for a time, but it will not hold here,” Thranduil said. “Many of the woodelves do not speak the Common Tongue at all.”

“You’re right,” Meghan conceded. “And I _am_ already studying Sindarin. I’m just… not good at it yet. Um, what else will I be learning?”

“Court etiquette and protocols, the fundamental history of the Elves, and any other subject that my advisor deems necessary. I trust in her judgment.”

 _Sounds like prep school,_ she thought as she shifted to a more comfortable position in her chair. Even though she had told Legolas that she felt fine, her wound had begun to ache again and it was making her grouchy. “Are there any other conditions?”

“If the truth of your origin is to be concealed, you must present a history that is more believable.”

“So, like, a cover story,” Meghan said, her interest piqued. “I’ve always said that I’m from Rivendell.”

“Then continue to do so, and say also that you joined the Fellowship there, not in the wilds of Hollin. Choose an age, a family, a trade if you wish. Much attention is on you already, and I cannot evade questions for much longer without raising suspicion.”

 “Do I have to decide right now?”

“I thought perhaps it would be wise to discuss it with my son once his meeting with Captain Feren concludes,” Thranduil replied. “No doubt he will be able to suggest suitable options.”

“Good idea,” Meghan said, torn between being amused and horrified that the king had essentially commanded her to have a date night with Legolas.

Just then there was the tiniest noise from a corner of the room. It was so insignificant that Meghan hardly even noticed it, but Thranduil froze and looked up.

“ _Alassëa_ ,” he sighed, his expression melting into the universal look of an exasperated parent.

A lithe blonde woman dressed in hunting greens dropped out of the ceiling, and Meghan almost fell out of her chair.

“Where did you come from?” she yelped.

The blonde was clearly attempting to look penitent but not quite succeeding, because she kept stealing glances at Meghan and trying not to smile. “The top of that pillar is hollow,” she said, then caught the king’s eye and redoubled her contrite look.

“I thought you were beyond these spying games,” Thranduil said sternly.

“There would be no need for me to spy had you not kept our guest locked away like a poxed dwarf in the dungeons,” Alassëa retorted.

Thranduil was completely unmoved. “She has been convalescing and a visit from an excitable Elfling such as you would surely have undone all my hard work.”

“Could an excitable Elfling such as I have fooled the Elvenking of Eryn Lasgalen into believing he is alone when he is not?” She lifted her chin, grinning triumphantly.

There was a pause, and it actually seemed like Thranduil was searching for a reply. Finally his face broke into the first real smile that Meghan had seen on him. “How did you even fit up there?”

“I am not certain, to be honest,” Alassëa laughed. “But I was in such a hurry to get in before you arrived that I did not consider how long I might be trapped in such a small space. I have not hidden there in a century at least!”

Meghan watched their exchange, enchanted. Clearly this parent-child relationship hadn’t been affected by whatever tension ran between Thranduil and Legolas. That encouraged her, because it meant that Thranduil _was_ capable of relating with his children. And it was obvious that he loved all three of them desperately.

“I will ask Galion to inspect up there before each council meeting,” he was saying. “ _Especially_ before the next one. I believe one of the items of business is your arranged marriage to – was it Haeron?”

“ _Ada_ ,” Alassëa groaned. “Please, oh please, let me rescue our guest from your terrible jokes. I have been longing to meet her for days.”

“Very well, go,” Thranduil said with a wave of his hand. “But you may only show her back to the healers’ wing. She must rest for some days yet.”

“Thank you, Ada!” Alassëa bent forward and pressed a peck to the King’s cheek as he returned to his papers from before. She then swiveled toward Meghan, face alight with a grin. “So you are Legolas’ lady.”

“I suppose I am,” Meghan replied. It seemed as if she was dismissed from Thranduil’s presence, so she stood, wincing a bit as she did.

In an instant, Alassëa was at her side. “I meant to show you the city despite my father’s command to the contrary” – a warning hum from the king, who did not look up – “but perhaps it would be best to abide by his wisdom and return to the healers’ wing. Can you walk?”

“Yes, thanks,” Meghan said. “But I think I’ll be glad to lie down. Do you think we could get some food once we’re back in my room?”

“Of course!” Alassëa looped her arm though Meghan’s in what could have just been an expression of girlish excitement, except it actually did help steady her as they made their way back to the hallway. “I already know that you and I are going to be _good_ friends.”

 _I hope so,_ Meghan thought, taking a deep breath.


	6. Chapter 6

Alassëa had kept up a steady stream of chatter on their way from Thranduil’s council chamber back to Meghan’s room in the healers’ wing, but as soon as she closed the door behind them, she spun on Meghan with a delighted grin.

“ _Please_ let me help you choose your new identity,” Alassëa said, practically bouncing with excitement. “Legolas will paint you as a staid weaver’s daughter or something dreadful like that. You will have much more fun with me.”

“Don’t you think it would be better if I keep a low profile?” Meghan asked as she eased down onto the settee in the sitting area opposite her bed.

“I suppose so,” Alassëa sighed, then noticed Meghan’s grimace. “Oh, you must be famished. I am too; I missed breakfast so that I could hide in Ada’s study. It was worth the look on his face, don’t you think? He smiles more now that Legolas is home again, but he has been such a terrible grump lately. I hope the kitchen sends up something delicious, because I heard Gelinnas made some of her famous nut pastries and it would be a shame to miss them. Are you sure you are quite well?”

All the while that she had been talking, Alassëa had moved around the room, first pausing to pull the little cord by Meghan’s bed (presumably to call for a meal), and then keeping her hands busy by straightening the bedspread and rearranging the items on top of  the dresser.  

“I’m fine,” Meghan replied, exhausted just watching her. “I definitely want one of those nut pastries now, though.”

Alassëa plopped down next to her on the settee – or at least, as close as an Elf can come to plopping. “It should not take long for them to send up a tray. So how do you fancy being Lady Arwen’s boon companion?”

“Well, I spoke with her a little in Minas Tirith,” Meghan said. “But she was too busy being a newlywed to spend much time with me. Why?”

“I thought perhaps we might say you were a foundling and Lord Elrond took you in and raised you as his own,” Alassëa said, all innocence.

“That seems a little far-fetched,” Meghan said dubiously.

“Perhaps you are right.” Alassëa tilted her head back to examine the ceiling, as if thinking deeply. “Suppose you were one of the border guards of Imladris, and Lord Elrond sent you with the Company to protect the periannath?”

“Aragorn said I would only last twenty seconds in a proper fight,” Meghan sighed. “And the last battle I was in, I mostly just screamed and then got shot.”

Just then there was a knock on the door and Alassëa shot up to answer it. Meghan wasn’t sure if she did everything with such energy or if the promise of food had invigorated her, but she hoped it was the latter simply because Meghan loved food, too.

“Brother!” Alassëa exclaimed as she opened the door to usher Gwaethir in. “Have you rejected your claim to the throne and taken up work as a kitchen maid?”

He was balancing two trays laden with food in his hands, one of which he handed to her. “Alas, sweet sister, you have found me out,” he said melodramatically. “I long for a simpler life away from the intrigue of court.”

“Well, I hope you are taking your new duties seriously,” Alassëa said, examining the contents of the tray he had passed over. “I see no nut pastries here.”

He looked wounded. “You doubt me?” he said and uncovered a small dish on his own tray with a flourish. “Gelinnas sent them especially. To be truthful, it is only chance that I could be your errand boy this morning. Adar sent word to the kitchen that our convalescing guest wanted a meal, and I happened to be leaving there at the same time. I thought I would come up and partake with you.”

All this while Alassëa and Gwaethir had been rearranging the little seating area to turn it into a more comfortable place to eat, first by bringing over the nightstand to act as a dinner table and then unloading the trays onto it. It made a tidy feast, with various pastries and cheeses and a generous pot of tea.

“I am glad you came, because we were just deciding on Meghan’s new history,” Alassëa said as she sat back onto the settee next to Meghan and began serving up a plate.

Gwaethir settled into one of the armchairs opposite. “Oh?”

“Yes, and you can help us.” Alassëa passed the laden plate to Meghan and picked up another for herself. “She is most rational and I am nearly at my wits’ end. Help me convince her that she should be something extraordinary.”

“I just think I should be something believable,” Meghan laughed in protest.

“No, Alassëa is right,” Gwaethir said very seriously. “I think we should say that you are Lúthien Tinúviel reborn at last.”

“You mock me,” his sister growled around a mouthful of pastry.

“Hardly,” he said, putting his hands up in innocence. “It would be perfect. Everyone would be so awed by her that they would not ask questions.”

“ _Ooooh_ , now I catch your meaning,” Alassëa said as her eyes lit up. “What if we also said she was born in the wilds and the Great Eagles of Manwë found her and raised her in their aeries?”

“Better and better,” Gwaethir nodded.

“Now I sound like Tarzan,” Meghan said.

“Is that a noble lady from your world?” Alassëa asked.

“Not quite,” Meghan laughed. “But I’ll tell you all about _him_ sometime.”

“Him?” Alassëa said just as there was another knock on the door. “Oh, you are quite popular today.”

“Come in,” Meghan called, already guessing who it would be.

“I would have come sooner had I known it was to be a party,” Legolas said as he slipped in the door.

“Well at least one of the princes has kept up with his duties,” Alassëa said. “It would seem that you are now the heir apparent, since Gwaethir has given it all up to work in the kitchens.”

“Did you know Legolas worked with me in the kitchens in Gondor once?” Meghan said.

Alassëa turned to her with a look of open-mouthed shock. “Surely you jest.”

Meanwhile, Legolas had waded over his brother’s outstretched legs and started to nudge Alassëa off the settee. She harrumphed at him, but obliged so that he could sit next to Meghan.

“No, I’m serious. It was actually in the Houses of Healing, since that was where he left me after he drugged me—”

“He _what?_ ” Alassëa and Gwaethir said in tandem.

“It’s okay, he promised not to do it again,” Meghan said, easing some her weight against him now that he was sitting beside her. “And besides, he’s still on probation.”

“Good,” Alassëa said overtop what sounded like a worried, “I am?” from Legolas.

“I am less surprised that he did it than I am that he knew how,” Gwaethir said. “In strategy and combat he is unparalleled, but it cannot be said that he is overly clever with potions.”

“It was a simple brew, and one that Meghan used to her advantage as well,” Legolas interjected.

“Oooooh?” Alassëa crowed in a singsong voice. “What mischief did our lady fair stir up?”

“I was trying to be helpful,” Meghan said. “So I drugged Haldir and locked him in a cellar.”

There was a stunned pause.

“You drugged the Marchwarden of Lothlórien… and locked him in a cellar?” Gwaethir asked at last, in mingled tones of respect and horrified glee.

“We must not underestimate this one, brother,” Alassëa said, narrowing her eyes at Meghan as if sizing her up. “I thought her too sweet to be teased, but I see now that she is made of sterner stuff.”

“Do not trouble her while she is recovering at least,” Legolas said, laughing.

Alassëa looked mock-offended. “Have I not provided food and conversation to her in your absence? Indeed, I rescued her from the tedium of Ada’s lectures! Your lady has been safe with me.”

“The calm before the storm,” Legolas retorted.

Meghan still thought that he was exaggerating about the level of pranks his siblings pulled, since Gwaethir had only been mildly annoying on the long journey from Gondor to Mirkwood. She couldn’t imagine Thranduil putting up with many shenanigans, anyway.

By then they had all finished eating, so Meghan tucked her legs up under her and settled more fully against Legolas’ side. Meanwhile, the conversation had shifted to catching Legolas up on everything that had happened in his absence.

“You will never guess who passed the guard assessment,” Alassëa said.

“Surely it was not Merendir,” Legolas said with a tentative wince, which turned to a full-blown grimace at her nod of confirmation. “Captain Feren could not have been pleased.”

“He is either too polite or too aghast to speak of it,” Gwaethir said.

“What’s the matter with Merendir?” Meghan asked, stumbling slightly over the unfamiliar name.

“There is nothing wrong with Merendir himself, but if ever an Elf was unsuitable as a guard, it is he,” Alassëa said. “He has been trying to join the ranks for the past two decades at least when he should have been a minstrel or a poet.”

“He is in love with a lady in the second unit, although I doubt she knows of his existence, poor soul,” Gwaethir added.

“It is the worst-kept secret in the city,” Alassëa said. “But perhaps now that he has passed the examination, she will take notice of him at last.”

Meghan tilted her head to rest it on Legolas’ shoulder, who shifted a little to make her more comfortable. Now that she had eaten and the tension of the morning had passed, the weight of drowsiness made her bones feel heavy and warm. And listening to the three siblings talk easily amongst themselves was relaxing, even though she didn’t really know what they were talking about.

She let her eyes blink slower and slower, until at last she closed them one moment to soft conversation and opened them to an empty room. She sucked in a breath through her nose and straightened up as Legolas stirred beside her.

“Did I fall asleep?” she asked, wiping her mouth and side-eying Legolas’ shoulder to make sure she hadn’t drooled on him.

“Yes, a little while ago,” he replied. “Alassëa and Gwaethir took their leave shortly after. How are you feeling?”

Meghan shifted position so that her back was against the armrest and she could stretch her legs across his lap. “I’m alright. I like your family.”

“Alassëa is smitten with you,” Legolas said, resting his hands on her knees.

“I think she would have been smitten with any girl you brought home,” Meghan laughed. She almost joked that it might take more to convince Thranduil, but stopped herself. Legolas seemed to pick up on her train of thought, though.

“What did you speak of with my father?” he asked.

“He asked for my story just from me,” she said. “I guess Lady Galadriel said something about me to him when she was here, but he wanted to judge for himself. He said he believes it though – it really wasn’t hard to convince him. I do have to go to Elf school though.”

That made Legolas crack a smile. “Elf school?”

“You know, school about being an Elf,” she said, vaguely waving her hand. “He said he was gonna leave the specifics to one of his ‘trusted advisors’ who will oversee my education. Oh, that reminds me – we have to come up with a backstory to tell people.”

“Alassëa said that you already came up with something suitable,” Legolas said with a puzzled expression.

“Well, in that case you can address me as Lúthien Tinúviel,” Meghan replied, “and I was raised in the wild by giant eagles until Elrond took me in.”

“I see.” He paused. “Perhaps your story bears revisiting?”

“I was thinking we could say that I’m the daughter of a weaver,” Meghan said, smiling to herself. “I already know how to sew, so it makes sense.”

“It does,” he nodded thoughtfully. “It would be simpler to also say that your parents have long since sailed, or even were slain if the thought does not grieve you overmuch.”

“No, that’s a good idea,” Meghan said. “It explains why I don’t have parents here.”

They spent a little while fine-tuning her new identity. Eventually they decided that she was two hundred and twenty years old, and that she had no family left in Middle-earth. She had lived in Rivendell serving as a handmaiden until she had been allowed to join the Fellowship on the same merits as Merry and Pippin. There was very little travel between Mirkwood and Rivendell, so it was unlikely that anyone would question her.  

Once they had settled on all of that, they fell into a comfortable silence. Meghan let her thoughts drift, wondering what the next few weeks would bring with this new life. After a few moments, she remembered where Legolas had been that morning.

“Oh! How did your meeting with the guard captain go?” she asked.

“It went well,” Legolas replied, then looked uncertain. “But there is a matter that I wish to discuss with you in private.”

Meghan glanced around the empty room. “As it happens, we are in private at the moment.”

“I do not like asking this of you,” he said.

He looked so miserable and guilty that she felt a pang of concern. She scooched closer, ignoring the throbbing in her side at the motion, so that she was almost in his lap. “Hey, what is it?”

“Though my father and the Lord and Lady of Lórien destroyed Dol Guldor, the spiders that survived fled deeper into the forest,” he began. “The guard has been hunting down each nest in turn, but my people are weary of this war.”

“And you want to go help them,” Meghan said slowly.

“I believe that my presence would hearten them and we could decisively end this infestation,” Legolas replied as he picked up one of her hands and began tracing circles on her palm with his thumb. “I would see this forest safe again. When I was a child I walked under its boughs without fear, but I watched you shot down before you even stepped foot inside its borders. Too long have we allowed evil things to dwell in our home.”

“Of course you should go, then,” she said. The thought of him going away so soon made her heart sting a little, but she could see how strongly he felt about it. “As long as you can be safe and come back to me soon.”

He didn’t say anything, although it looked like he wanted to. His eyes that he finally brought up to meet hers were so full of guilt that she instinctively put her hand on his chest just below the hollow of his throat.

“Listen, I’ll be fine here,” she said. “I’ll probably be so busy that I won’t even have time to miss you too much. Maybe we got a little too comfortable after the war ended. Of course we weren’t going to get here and just relax like we did in Minas Tirith.”

“You are still healing,” he said, reaching up to cover her hand with his own. “Am I not remiss to leave you when you are most in need of me?”

“What would you do if I wasn’t here? Be honest.”

Legolas paused, then offered her a chagrined look. “I do not think I would have tarried here this long already.”

“I’ll be _fine_ ,” Meghan insisted. “Look, I’m not pushing you to go, because of course I would rather have you here with me. But I can’t be the reason you stay – I can’t get in the way.”

“You are not in the way,” he murmured against her wrist as he kissed it.

“How long are you gonna be gone?”

“A patrol is leaving at first light tomorrow, and another is scheduled to return in seven days,” he said. “I thought that it would be wise to go only briefly at first.”

“And how long do you think it will take until you can _stay_ home?”

“It is difficult to say. That will depend on how many patrols my father authorizes, and how many nests are hidden deep in the forest. Even Captain Feren is unsure. It may be some months, although I hope it will be much less.”

 _I thought my separations from him were over,_ Meghan thought ruefully. _I guess this is the downside of falling in love with a warrior prince._

“We’ll make it work,” she said. “By the time you get back from this first trip, I’ll be elbows deep in schoolwork anyway.”

“I love you, my Meghan,” Legolas said, and tilted his head toward her to press a gentle kiss to her lips.

“Yeah, you’re alright,” she replied, already grumpy about him leaving in the morning. She had been so focused on being supportive that she hadn’t really taken into consideration what his absence would actually look like for her. She knew that she could stay busy, but that didn’t change the fact that she was a stranger in a strange land. Legolas was supposed to be her anchor, but apparently that would only be part-time now.

“The wardens are eager to know more of you,” Legolas said. Meghan couldn’t tell if he had sensed her misgivings and was trying to cheer her up.

“Oh?” she asked, her curiosity piqued despite herself.

“The guards that accompanied us from Minas Tirith are popular in the garrison, since they are nearly the only ones who have seen you at all,” Legolas continued. “Have you heard the name they have given to you?”

“No, what?” Meghan hadn’t spoken much with the small company of guards on the trip from Gondor, mostly because all but two could only speak Sindarin.

“They call you _bainrodel_. I think they find your name a little strange.”

“Oh! Nesseldë called me that, but I didn’t know what it means.”

“It translates most closely to _wholesome lady_ , though in the Common Tongue the meaning loses some of its good will.”

“No, I’ll take it,” Meghan said with a laugh. “But that reminds me, we should have another Sindarin lesson. Maybe it’ll give me a leg-up on my official studies.”

“Where did we leave off last time?” She could tell by the way he squared his shoulders that he was mentally switching over to the task at hand. Teaching did not come easily to him, but he still obediently tried to tutor her whenever she suggested it.

“Plural verbs,” she replied.

He blinked for a beat longer than necessary, which meant that he hated plural verbs more than anything else in the world at that moment. She gave his hand a little squeeze to convey her gratitude, and he launched into an explanation of Sindarin grammar.

Even though she tried to pay attention, her thoughts wandered back to his upcoming departure. She remembered what Aragorn had said at their parting, that Legolas was bound up in his duty to Mirkwood. Meghan certainly didn’t want to impede his relationship with his people – but she didn’t want to get left behind, either.

Still, she was a little heartened that the wood-elves were already disposed to like her. Maybe it would make settling into her new life here a little easier.

 _Goodness knows I’ll need all the help I can get,_ she thought as she studied Legolas’ face while he talked. _Especially if he’s going to be gone._


	7. Chapter 7

Meghan had meant to be up before Legolas came in to wake her, but her body must have needed more rest to heal than she had thought. She was in such a dead sleep that she didn’t hear him come in the door, and she grumpily scrunched under the covers when he pressed a kiss to her cheek in the dim light.

“No,” she growled into her pillow.

“The patrol is leaving soon and I must go,” he replied, coaxing her out of her cocoon by gently sweeping the hair out of her face.

“ _Noooo_ ,” she said, this time turning to him with a frown. He was dressed in a similar outfit to his uniform yesterday, except now he also wore a coat of extremely fine mail under his jerkin and beautifully worked pauldrons on his shoulders. She reached out to finger the edges of one. “What if you took this off and came to bed with me instead?”

“Someday, when we are wed, I will,” he said. “But for now, I must go.”

By then Meghan had finally woken up enough to remember her original intentions of being supportive. She sat up, leaning on one arm. “Okay. Just give me a second and I’ll walk down with you to see you off.” Legolas was looking at her with a grin in his eyes, and she blearily pushed a stray curl out her face. “What is it?”

“I love you in the morning,” he said. “When your hair is all askew.”

“And when I’m grouchy from being woken up,” she laughed.

“ _Especially_ that,” he replied, kissing her again. Then he traced the tip of his finger down her cheek. “Also, you have a pillow crease here.”

Meghan groaned and covered her face with both hands, flopping back into the pillows. It was so warm and comfy in bed that all she wanted to do was drag Legolas under the covers with her and fall asleep next to him. But she forced herself to sit back up and swing her legs over the edge of the bed, hissing a little when her bare feet hit the cold air.

“You need not come,” Legolas said. He was hovering in that way that said he wasn’t completely sure if she could stand by herself just yet, although not quite willing to outright insist that she take it easy. “The patrol’s leave-taking is often a cold business.”

“No way,” Meghan said as she looked around for something to put over her pajamas, which consisted of soft leggings and a loose shirt that she had begged off Nesseldë. “I’m not missing my first ever _leave-taking_ in Nídhrond just because I want to sleep more.” She found her slippers, but couldn’t see anything suitable as a cover-up. Shrugging, she yanked the top blanket off the bed.

“What are you doing?” Legolas asked in a startled voice as she threw it around her shoulders like a cape.

“I don’t want to get cold,” Meghan replied.

“You cannot go down to the garrison wearing a blanket,” he replied as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“Your dad does,” she said.

Legolas looked incredulous for a moment, then burst into laughter.

“It’s true!” Meghan protested, although she was laughing too. “Isn’t that what he had on yesterday when we met him?”

“No,” Legolas chuckled. “I am quite certain that was a robe, albeit rather informal.”

She hitched up the blanket around her arms. “Well, I can just say this is my informal robe then.”

“That is a standard weave for the blankets in the healers’ wing,” he said, moving closer to her so that he could slowly brush it off her shoulders in a way that made Meghan’s heart surge to the floor of her pelvis. As the blanket dropped to the floor, he drew her close to him so their bodies were flush against one another. “What would people say if my lady left her bedchamber dressed only in nightclothes and a blanket?”

She was very aware of his hands on her back and his body at her front. “Probably just _awful_ things,” she replied, reaching one hand up behind his head to draw him down for a kiss. He was a perfect blend of hot skin and cool chainmail, and she blindly ran her fingers along the opening of his shirt, trying to find the clasps.

She couldn’t exactly be sure, but she thought she heard a low chuckle in the back of his throat even as he kissed her. She broke away and narrowed her eyes up at him. “You have very problematic clothing.”

Legolas dropped a kiss on her forehead. “And you do not have enough,” he said, going to the chest of drawers on the far wall. “If my memory serves, there are robes for patients… ah.” He pulled a silvery swath of fabric from one of the drawers and shook it out.

“This is definitely the nicest hospital gown I’ve ever had,” Meghan said as he swept the robe over her shoulders and she stuck her arms into the loose sleeves. It was made from a heavy, soft material and was definitely too long for her, but she belted it around her waist anyway. “Will this keep the gossipers at bay?”

“It is also standard issue for the healers’ wing,” he replied, taking her hand and tucking it into his elbow. “At the very least no one will bother you. Are you certain that you are feeling well enough to walk far this morning?”

Meghan pretend-scowled at him and poked his ribcage, only to discover that his armor shielded him from being tickled. “This is _very_ problematic clothing,” she growled. “And yes, I feel fine. I wouldn’t want to go for a long horseback ride or anything, but I think I can handle a nice walk.”

“I have heard a rumour of who your tutor will be,” Legolas said as they left the bedroom and went into the hallway. “I should have guessed it when first I heard you would require one at all.”

“Who is it?” Meghan asked.

“Her name is Dúlinneth. She helped my mother care for us when we were in our youth, and has since assisted my sister in her role as lady of the palace after my mother sailed.”

“So you’ve known her your entire life,” Meghan said, enchanted.

“I have,” he replied with a nod.

“And more importantly, she knew you when you were little,” she beamed up at him. “I can’t wait to hear all about it. I hope you were a fat baby!”

He scoffed, but didn’t have time for a reply since they were at the entrance to the garrison. It hadn’t occurred to her that it would make sense for the healers’ wing to be so close to where the soldiers lived. Meghan got the sense that the area they were in was only a small part of a vast system of barracks and training areas, but she knew she had barely even begun to get a grasp of how big the underground city was.

Legolas ushered her through the entry room and into a larger hall, where a group of about twenty or thirty Elves in hunting greens were milling about, checking weapons and talking amongst themselves. They all went silent at their entrance, hands going over hearts in salute. Meghan froze beside Legolas, although he naturally returned the gesture to them.

Suddenly she felt awkward and in the way. She didn’t speak their language and she barely knew anything about their culture and city – there was absolutely no doubt in her mind that she was an outsider. And in that moment she wanted nothing more than to beg Legolas to stay with her, because he made her feel safe and wanted.

 _No,_ she told herself firmly as she forced her hand up to mimic their salute. _Rip off the band-aid. You can’t make him your everything here, or you’ll never have a life outside of him._

Meanwhile, Legolas had turned to face her so that they had some semblance of privacy with his back to the patrol. A flicker of concern passed across his face. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah,” Meghan replied, summoning a smile. “I’m just still a little tired, but I’ll be fine. I’ll take it easy again today.” She rushed on to cut him off from being too worried about her, because she knew that if he expressed any hint that he would stay then she would jump on it. “Um, be safe out there. I’ll see you in a week.”

His eyes were very dark as he brought one of her hands to his lips and pressed a kiss to her inner wrist. “Nothing could keep me from returning to you, my Meghan,” he murmured.

She wished that he would kiss her properly, but she could feel the weight of his kinsmen’s eyes on them and she knew he would prefer to keep their interaction very understated. Even kissing his wrist had probably been an indulgence. So she grazed her thumb over his lips, since the other Elves couldn’t see, and smiled up at him. “See you in a week.”

She hated how unsteady she felt when he stepped away from her to take his place at the head of the patrol. They melted in seamlessly behind him and within half a moment they were all gone, disappeared out of the hidden door into a secret part of the forest.

And it would be seven long days until she saw him again.

The room was now empty, so she turned around to leave before realizing that she didn’t really know how to get back to her room. That combined with Legolas leaving and the dull ache still in her abdomen, she could feel tears building in her eyes.

She was just getting a couple deep breaths to stop herself from crying when Alassëa appeared in the doorway.

“There you are,” she said. “Have you been here long? I meant to come sooner but Gwaethir— oooh, surely you are not weeping?”

“Sorry,” Meghan gurgled, dashing away the first few tears. “It’s just that, he was barely here and now he left again and I miss him already—”

“You need not apologize,” Alassëa said with a concerned face. She hesitantly reached out a hand to squeeze her arm, which reminded Meghan of how awkward Legolas used to be when she got emotional. _Does emotional constipation run in the family?_ she wondered.

“I haven’t been here long,” Meghan said now that she felt like she had the crying under control a little bit more. “The patrol just left a minute or two ago.”

“I came to collect you,” Alassëa said. “I was speaking with Dúlinneth last evening and she mentioned that she would like to meet you this morning, so I thought I could introduce you.”

“Is she going to be my tutor? Legolas said he heard she might be.”

“Gwaethir suggested it should be her, although of course there could hardly be anyone else. She was my nursemaid when I was a babe and has been my constant friend ever since. You will _love_ her.”

Meghan took one more steadying breath and wiped the last trace of tears from her lashes. “Let’s go find her, then.”

Alassëa led her through the winding hallways of the city, chattering all the while. Their passage was periodically interrupted by the Elves that they ran into – Alassëa seemed to know them all, regardless of their station, and spoke with each person briefly in Sindarin as they passed. Meghan could only half follow what they were saying, but they all looked at her curiously, nodded politely, and called her _bainrodel._

“I have been simply saying that you are too tired to speak much,” Alassëa explained to Meghan after the third or fourth time. “I am certain you will pick up our language much more quickly now that you will have a proper teacher. My brother can hardly conjugate a verb for himself, let alone teach someone else to do it.”

“I used to think Legolas was impossibly good at everything,” Meghan said with a little laugh.

“Hardly,” Alassëa rolled her eyes. “I can quickly disillusion you of that notion. If you intend to have a happy marriage, do not let the poor creature cook _anything_ for you. It is not even that he is unwilling – but he nearly burned the kitchen down to the bare stone when I was child. I think the master cook still feels a cold chill down her spine when she sees him.”

Meghan couldn’t help but laugh at the mental image, but they didn’t have time to continue the discussion since by then they had reached their destination. As they were talking, they had been making their way deeper into the city, and obviously passed into a more residential area. Now they came up to a set of double doors nestled in an alcove off a main hallway.

Alassëa rapped twice on the door and waited, hands folded. This was by far the most quiet Meghan had seen her yet, but then she reasoned that no matter how beloved, the presence of a governess-turned-advisor would have a calming effect on anybody.

The door swung open to frame a tall man with dark skin and an easy grin that lit up when he saw them. Instead of his hair being loose like most of the Elves, his was in dozens of tiny plaits and pulled back from his face.

“Good morning, Alassëa,” he said, smiling warmly at her before turning his attention to Meghan. “And you must be our newcomer. Welcome to Nídhrond.”

“Thank you,” Meghan replied, a little thrown since she had been expecting a woman.

“Meghan, this is Dúlinneth’s husband, Hérion,” Alassëa said.

“Please come inside,” he said as he gestured for them to step inside. “Dúlinneth will be ready in just a moment. Would you like some tea while we wait?”

“I am here now, _seron vuin_ ,” a new voice said, and it belonged to a tall woman with a dusky complexion and dark hair that fell in a smooth waterfall down her back. She smiled in welcome as she entered the room, then kissed her husband on the cheek. “Good morning, Alassëa, Meghan.”

“Good morning,” Alassëa chirped.

“I will take my leave,” Hérion said, squeezing Dúlinneth’s hand. “It was a pleasure to meet you, Meghan.”

“You too,” Meghan replied.

“I must go too,” Alassëa said. “I will be late for my archery lesson if I linger much longer.”

“I am walking that way, if you would care to join me,” Hérion said, offering her his arm.

“Only if you promise to tell me about your sister’s sweet newborn,” Alassëa said as she took it and they went out the door, leaving Meghan and Dúlinneth alone.

“Hi,” Meghan said awkwardly to fill the silence in their wake.

“Please, sit,” Dúlinneth said, gesturing to a set of chairs behind her. “The King warned me that you will still be a little weak, though you may not be disposed to admit it.”

“I’m fine,” Meghan said out of reflex as she sat, then winced. “Well, I mean, I will be. Honestly I’m just amazed that I’m able to be up and about at all.”

Dúlinneth had been pouring tea for both of them, and she brought over a cup for Meghan and took a seat across from her. “That is something I wished to speak to you about. Until you are better able to speak in Sindarin, the King believes it would be wise for you to limit your interaction with the people. Perhaps we might exaggerate how grave your wound was, so that a longer period of bedrest is not questioned.”

“Oh,” Meghan said. She had already gotten a little restless about being underground for so long, let alone stuck in her bedroom doing homework.

“There is much to decide regarding your integration into life here, but I will guide you to the best of my ability. This must be a difficult transition for you.”

“It hasn’t really felt like a transition here yet,” Meghan replied. “I’ve hardly left my room.”

“Then I am sorry that it must continue to be so for a little while longer,” Dúlinneth said. “I am sure you understand how strange it would be for Legolas’ betrothed to speak only the Common Tongue. I have already begun to prepare a curriculum for your studies, though it may be a little clumsy since I have never taught Sindarin except to Elflings from their infancy.” She handed Meghan a stack of parchment filled with a flowing script.

That naturally shifted to a rudimentary grammar lesson, which Meghan had to admit was light years more informative than anything Legolas had attempted to teach her. Studying verb tenses under Dúlinneth’s calm corrections made her feel like maybe it wouldn’t take too long to learn the entire language and jailbreak herself from isolation.

She ended up staying the whole day in Dúlinneth’s chamber. After spending most of the morning in grammar, they took a light lunch and moved on to court etiquette. There were so many protocols that it made Meghan’s head spin, but just as she felt like she was going to explode, Dúlinneth suggested that they measure her so that the seamstresses could begin work on her wardrobe.

At the end of the day, they walked together back to Meghan’s room in the healers’ wing and discussed the plan for the coming days – Dúlinneth would come to her each morning, instead of vice versa as they had done today. When they reached Meghan’s door, Dúlinneth handed her the stack of homework an apologetic smile.

“You have learned much today,” she said. “Let your mind rest this evening. There will time for you to study in the morning.”

“Okay,” Meghan said, even though she intended to keep working on Sindarin until she fell asleep. “Thank you for your help. Legolas said you would be a good teacher, and he was right.”

“There was a time he did not appreciate my tutelage,” Dúlinneth laughed softly.

“Oh yeah,” Meghan said, brightening. “You taught all three of them, didn’t you?”

“I have helped the royal family since their childhood, yes,” she replied.

“What was Legolas like as a baby?” Meghan asked, then added in a whisper, “ _was he fat?_ ”

Dúlinneth leaned forward a bit to answer in the same low tone, “the very fattest.”

“I knew it,” Meghan crowed. “I want you to tell me _everything_.”

“We will break up the tedium of lessons with stories,” Dúlinneth smiled. “But for now, rest. Sleep, if it seems good to you. I will tell the kitchens that you are ready for your evening meal.”

“Goodnight,” Meghan said, exchanging one last smile with her new tutor before closing the door behind her and letting out a breath.

 _I can do this,_ she thought as she spread the first few pages of homework at the foot of the bed and curled up in front of them. _I can make this work._


	8. Chapter 8

Meghan sighed and scrubbed her eyes. She had been staring at the same sheet of paper for twenty minutes now without absorbing any of its information. Even though she knew she needed a break, Meghan didn’t want to waste any time – the sooner she learned Sindarin, the sooner she could go outside.

It had been a week since Legolas left, and it had felt even longer than she had expected, since every morning started with Dúlinneth’s lessons and every afternoon was spent studying. Gwaethir and Alassëa had visited almost every evening, but Meghan was so drained from academics by then that their company was more tiring than anything.

She had woken this morning in a cheerful mood though, anticipating Legolas’ return, although she didn’t know what time he would. She had even made it through a particularly demanding lesson on irregular verbs without losing too much focus, and Dúlinneth had smiled softly and told her _well done_ as she left.

But now it was almost evening, and the patrol hadn’t returned.

Just then there was a knock on the door and Meghan bolted up to answer it. She had painstakingly cobbled together a fairly complicated Sindarin greeting to surprise him, and she ran through it one more time to make sure she remembered it. A small part of her wondered if she would always feel this way when he came home – this fluttering, weightless anticipation that made it hard to breathe and easy to smile.

She was smiling when she threw the door open, but it wasn’t Legolas on the other side and she had to catch the disappointed noise in her throat. Nesseldë offered her an apologetic look as if she understood anyway.

“Come in,” Meghan said in halting Sindarin, and Nesseldë stepped into the room and set down the dinner tray in her hands.

As it turned out, Nesseldë was Dúlinneth and Hérion’s daughter. She spoke only Sindarin, so Dúlinneth had arranged for her to take meals with Meghan a few times so that they could talk and force Meghan to pick up the language more quickly by immersion. It was a little tedious for both of them, but Nesseldë was so patient and helpful that Meghan couldn’t get irritated.

She joined Nesseldë at the table and sat down to eat. All of their previous conversations had been very limited, but despite her disappointment, Meghan was determined.

“How was your day?” she said, although judging from Nesseldë’s perplexed look she had completely missed the mark. And since Meghan only make out one of every ten words in Sindarin, she could only guess that Nesseldë asked her what she meant.

It took several minutes, but eventually Meghan realized that colloquialisms didn’t necessarily translate, and implying that Nesseldë owned an entire day (complete with incorrect tenses) was basically impossible. When she switched the question to _what did you do today_ , Nesseldë finally understood and began to reply.

Meghan half-listened to her voice, letting the foreign words slide over her. Nesseldë was a healer-in-training, so most of the vocabulary that Meghan picked up from her had to do with medicine and patients. Now she seemed to be talking about how she spent the afternoon cataloguing herbs until she was interrupted by something – and it was definitely a word that Meghan recognized.

“What?” Meghan said in English, her fork freezing halfway to her mouth. “The patrol is back?”

The meaning clearly wasn’t lost on Nesseldë, who stammered awkwardly. From what Meghan could gather, Legolas’ patrol had returned about an hour ago, and one of the archers had been sent to the infirmary to treat a minor injury. Nesseldë was quick to reassure her that it wasn’t Legolas, but Meghan still felt a little panicky and confused.

“Where is he now?” she tried to ask, although it translated more like _when are he_ and she felt like breaking her chair across the table in frustration.

“With the King,” Nesseldë replied, blessedly understanding her anyway.

 _Of course_ , Meghan reminded herself. _He has to debrief first thing after getting back. Be patient!_

And it was hard to be patient during the rest of their meal. Nesseldë sensed it and hurried, which made Meghan feel bad. She didn’t know enough words to correct it, though, so Nesseldë ate quickly and said goodbye with an apologetic smile.

Once she was alone again, Meghan slumped back to her desk and picked up the same lesson from before. It was even _more_ boring now that she knew Legolas was close. It wasn’t just studying Sindarin – she had to learn the history of Mirkwood and also Middle-earth as a whole, and family trees, and court etiquette, and various general information pertaining to life as a wood Elf. It was almost nauseatingly overwhelming, and she’d been buried in bookwork for the entire week.

Not to mention she’d stayed almost exclusively in the same room, since Dúlinneth and presumably Thranduil didn’t want her socializing with most people in case she slipped up and gave away how clueless she was. Meghan knew it wasn’t meant to be a prison, but it sure felt like one.

She was just about to gently light her homework page on fire when she heard another knock on the door. Those butterflies in her stomach started up again, but she didn’t trust them this time. She set the paper down and went to the door, opening it a trifle suspiciously.

But it really was Legolas, and she grabbed his collar and dragged him into a kiss so suddenly that he let out a little squawk of surprise.

His hair was damp and he smelled like soap and that other indefinable essence that was totally him – something like clean air after rain, or a warm afternoon in spring. Meghan felt her tension melting away as she melted against him, and all she could think was how glad she was that he had finally come back to her.

“I missed you too,” he said a moment later when they came up for air.

“Let’s get out of here,” Meghan said breathlessly. She didn’t let go of his shirt, because she liked being anchored to him after a week apart. “Just somewhere outside. I’d love to see some sky.”

“Surely you have not only stayed inside while I was away?” Legolas replied, concern etched across his features.

“I believe the term ‘long convalescence’ was used as the official excuse. But it doesn’t really matter now, because you can sneak me out.” She smiled winningly up at him, certain that he wouldn’t deny her.

He didn’t even hesitate, just took her hand and cast a calculating look down the hallway. “We must be quiet as we leave. Do they often check on you in the evenings?”

“Alassëa or Gwaethir will probably stop by a little later,” Meghan said.

“They will understand,” Legolas grinned, then tugged her hand down the hallway in the opposite direction to what she had always gone before.

They didn’t talk as they slipped through the corridors, and every now and then Legolas pulled her into an alcove to let someone pass without noticing them. The secrecy wasn’t really necessary – but it was terribly fun, and Meghan felt like bursting with happiness after being cooped up for so long.

It took the better part of twenty minutes for Legolas to lead her out of the underground city. They steadily worked their way downward, until finally they came to the wine cellars.

“This isn’t quite what I had in mind,” Meghan whispered, looking around at the huge barrels.

“ _Shhh_ ,” Legolas replied as he listened to make sure they were alone. When he was sure they were, he stepped further into the room and continued speaking. “This is an escape route used by some visitors we had some decades back, though they took the much harder road. Little did they know there is a proper door, if you know where to look.”

Meghan followed him as he moved between the casks, scanning the floor for something. “Are you sure that _you_ know where to look?” she asked with a grin, which earned her a pair of narrowed eyes in return.

“Gwaethir showed the passage to me when I was just a boy, but it has been many years since I have had cause to use it,” he said just as he looked more closely at a couple floorboards. “Ah, here it is.” He knelt down and somehow slipped a latch to open a smallish trapdoor in the floor.

She could hear the sound of rushing water now. It was hard to see much past the stairs that led immediately down from the lip of the door, but she got the sense that they went into a less finished underground space.

“I promise it will take us to the open air outside,” Legolas said, reading her hesitant look.

“Okay,” Meghan replied, and planted a lingering kiss on his cheek as she passed him on her way down the steep steps.  Sure enough, the stairway opened up to a huge cavern dominated by a rushing underground river. A narrow walkway started at the base of the steps and led along the cavern wall and around the corner.

“What’s this for?” she asked once Legolas had closed the trapdoor behind him and joined her at the bottom of the steps. She had to raise her voice a little to be heard over the sound of the water flowing.

“The stewards send the spent wine barrels down the river to Lake-town,” he replied, putting a hand at the small of her back to guide her down the walkway. It was only wide enough for them to walk single-file. “I believe this entry was put in place as a precaution, should there ever be a need to access this section of the river more easily.”

“And it leads to outside,” Meghan prompted hopefully.

“How sorrowful my battalion will be when I tell them that you had hardly a thought to spare for me upon my return,” Legolas said, crossing an arm over his chest as if wounded.

Meghan stuck her tongue out at him over her shoulder, but didn’t stop walking. “You’re the only one who will sneak me out the secret wine barrel exit.”

She heard his soft laughter behind her. “At least I have some worth,” he said.

The echoing of the running water started to change tone, and after a minute, Meghan could finally see the opening to the outside. The path led upward from the mouth where the river ran through and opened to a small ledge a couple yards above the riverbank. It was well after dark, so the only illumination was the full moon filtering through the tree branches. A low breeze ruffled her hair and she swiveled back around to face Legolas.

“This is nice,” she grinned. “Where are we?”

“Near the eastern border of Nídhrond,” he replied, taking her hand again. “How do you feel? There is more sky to see if you are not troubled by a climb.”

Meghan put a hand over her stomach where the arrow had pierced it. The wound had closed to an angry red welt that would probably leave a scar, but a week of rest had helped a lot with the pain. “Let’s see how far I get. It’s just that I still get tired easily,” she added quickly to forestall his concerned question.

 _For being so worried, he shouldn’t have left,_ she thought, then squashed the thought away. It wasn’t fair for her to encourage him to resume his princely duties and then resent him for it.

“We will not go far, then,” Legolas replied as he led her up away from the river toward the summit of the outcropping they were on.

Walking uphill was much harder than in the smooth corridors of the city, and within a few minutes Meghan was embarrassed by how heavily she was breathing. She was just about to suggest taking a break when Legolas swept her up into his arms, bridal-style, without even breaking stride.

“Oh,” she squeaked as she instinctively put her arms around his neck.

“The path is steeper ahead,” Legolas explained, then got a silly grin on his face. “And I wanted to hold you closer.”

Even though she was still huffing a little bit from overexertion, Meghan tilted up to press her lips against his cheek. “Have I told you that I’m glad you’re back?”

“Not in so many words,” he replied, “but I understood your meaning.”

The sound of the water below them had softened a lot by the time they reached their destination. The densely packed trees lightened up to reveal a small outcropping on the hillside, which was dotted with huge stones that matched the riverbed. Legolas set Meghan back onto her feet, and when she turned around, she gasped at what she saw.

They had climbed high enough to be mostly above tree level in one direction, and the entire forest stretched out before them. The moonlight reflected on the dewy leaves like crystals and a huge canopy of stars littered the sky above. Meghan used Legolas’ arm to balance herself as she stepped up onto one of the stones to get a little more height for the view.

“This is beautiful,” she said, tilting her head up to let the breeze sift through her hair.

“ _You_ are beautiful,” Legolas murmured.

Meghan looked back down at him, and found that she was half a head taller than him. He had turned to face her, his eyes luminous in the darkness, and just like that, she forgot all about the view of the forest and only wanted him.

He was looking at her lips now, and her breath felt heavy in her lungs, and how on earth had she survived a week without him? She was in such a rush to kiss him that they bumped noses, but neither one cared.

His kiss was so insistent that Meghan grabbed his shoulders to steady herself and he half caught her with a hand at the small of her back. She very quickly discovered that she really, _really_ liked being taller than him – something about it seemed to actually make him more assertive. His hands slid up her spine to the back of her head, gently drawing her closer to him, just as she reached for his collar.

Thankfully, he wasn’t wearing his uniform, but rather a softer, silvery tunic that had a neat row of laces halfway down the front instead of those impossibly hidden clasps. It was barely the work of a moment to undo them this time, and she hoped that the privacy of their surroundings would be an excuse enough that he mighteven let her get it all the way off him.

But her cold hands on his chest seemed to snap him back to reality. He broke away from her lips with a barely suppressed groan and practically panted, “There are wardens all amidst the trees in this part of the wood.”

Meghan stilled with one hand inside his shirt. Of _course_ Legolas would take her somewhere heavily guarded, no matter how peaceful and secluded it looked.

“Must you always torment me this way?” he asked, his breath tickling her skin and his fingers restlessly cradling her neck.

“No, I guess not.” She withdrew her hand from his collar and planted a quick peck on the tip of his nose. “But it _sure_ is fun.”

He sighed with a smile as she hopped down. She tugged him down the rest of the way so that they were both sitting on the ground with their backs against the stone she had been standing on.

“How was the patrol?” she asked as she picked his arm up and ducked underneath it so she could curl against his side.

“Not as effective as I had hoped,” he admitted. “The forest is vast and though we know it well, it is difficult to clear it thoroughly. Our enemies are loath to engage and prefer instead to flee and hide afresh whenever they are discovered.”

“Hmm,” Meghan replied hesitantly, her mood falling a little. It sounded like he would be gone quite often in the coming months.

“But I have some news that may cheer you,” he hurried to add. “My father and Dúlinneth agree that your supposed convalescence has continued overlong, and that it begins to seem odd that my future bride remains hidden in the healers’ wing.”

Meghan perked up at this and shifted her upper body mostly into Legolas’ lap, because this way she could see his face. “Oh?”

“There is to be a feast in three days time to celebrate our betrothal and introduce you to the people,” he said. “It is my understanding that preparations are already underway.”

“But I don’t really speak Sindarin yet,” she said. “And I don’t know the dances, and I definitely don’t have anything appropriate to wear—”

“I am certain that Dúlinneth and Alassëa will see to your attire,” Legolas said, tangling the fingers of one hand into her curls soothingly. “And you will hardly have time to speak more than pleasantries to anyone at one of my father’s festivals. The foremost purpose is that you are seen, since it seems that some doubt you even exist.”

“Aww, they think I’m your imaginary girlfriend,” Meghan crooned. “It probably doesn’t help that you snuck me out tonight.”

“Oh, I could have led you openly through the city, but I knew we would be approached and spoken to, and I did not wish to share your company with anyone else.”

“Except for the wardens in this area.” She poked him in the stomach, which made him laugh. Now that she was almost lying down against him, she was starting to feel drowsy.

He must have noticed how her muscles had been steadily loosening. “Are you ready to return to your chamber?”

“Not yet,” she smiled sleepily, putting a hand up to his cheek. She had learned that if she did that, sometimes he would kiss the inside of the wrist the way she loved so much. He did so now, catching her hand with his own and pressing his lips against her pulse.

She wasn’t sure how long they stayed there in easy silence, her body comfortably settled against him as he ran gentle fingers through her hair, but before long she fell asleep.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HEY GUYS! Below is semi-long explanation of both my absence and the creative process (or lack thereof…) behind this chapter, but you are more than welcome to skip it. If nothing else, please do check out the summary right below this though!  
> When I first started writing this sequel, I intended for it to be a fun way to stay in touch with Meghan and Legolas since I had so many ideas for their life post-LotR. I envisioned doing multi-chaptered arcs that covered milestones and smaller stories, but not necessarily doing a linear chapter-by-chapter fic that hit every step along the way. Somewhere in the first chapters I lost sight of that and sort of wrote myself into a corner by getting into the nitty-gritty of every day life, and literally planning Sindarin grammar lessons, and I didn't know what to do with Legolas so I sent him off on patrols, and I was like… this is boring as dirt. As much as I love my girl Megs, it very quickly turned into a weird repetitive cycle of her being an oddball who wanted to bang Legolas ASAP while his family stared on in varying degrees of disapproval. Yawn. I just didn't know what to do with her during that adjustment period. So you know what? I'M SKIPPING THAT WHOLE YEAR BYE. I'm going to jump right into the stories I want to tell, and I'm going to just sum up what happens in the interim because you're all smart and fun readers who can get up to speed in no time. I figure it's better to actually write something instead of being paralyzed by disappointment and indecision, right? So here's a cast of characters (because y'all… it's been almost two years) and quick summary of what I've casually leapt over:
> 
> Cast of Characters:  
> Thranduil – do I even need to do this for him  
> Gwaethir – Legolas' older brother, general rapscallion but also the nicest guy you'll meet  
> Alassëa – Legolas' younger sister, cute as a button but is the Elvish embodiment of "do it for the vine"  
> Dúlinneth – used to be something of a nanny to the royal kiddos, now helps run the household  
> Hérion – Dúlinneth's husband, overall cool guy  
> Nesseldë – Hérion and Dúlinneth's daughter, one of Alassëa's de facto friends since they grew up together  
> Nídhrond – not a person but a place; this is the name I gave to Thranduil's city/palace/whatever in Mirkwood
> 
> Summary: Meghan has been in Mirkwood for about a year total. She's maintained correspondence with pretty much everybody outside, especially Ioreth and Éowyn. She's fluent in Sindarin at this point and has mostly adjusted to the Elf life. She and Legolas are planning to take a smallish group of woodelves to settle in Ithilien in the near future, and Legolas has gone a couple of times to scout out the area. Ithilien is a province of Gondor btw, and Faramir and Éowyn already have a little colony there. This chapter begins in the best and only place it can: the morning of Meghan and Legolas' wedding day.

Elves did not have any superstition about the groom seeing the bride before the wedding. In fact, weddings were less a structured ceremony and more of a party, at least in Mirkwood. Legolas being a prince did lend a certain gravitas to the day, but there had been no rehearsal or pre-parties, and most of the preparation focused on the banquet itself.

Still, Meghan felt a little thrill of rebellion as she flung the door open to his particular knock. She had long been moved from the House of Healing into a wing of the royal quarters, but it was on the far opposite side from Legolas' – a fact that had often made her wonder just how much supervision Thranduil thought she needed when it came to his secondborn. Not that it mattered anymore, because the long year of patience had finally ended, and they were moving into entirely new quarters together that night.

"Good morning," she said to him, not even trying to conceal her grin.

He replied with a quick kiss overtop the breakfast tray in his hands. Meghan plucked the tray from him and took it over to her little sitting area. She set it down on the table and turned back around, only to squeak in delighted surprise when Legolas grabbed her and kissed her again, deeper this time.

"Good morning," he said, resting his forehead against hers.

She lazily draped her arms around his neck, that silly smile still on her face. "Good morning."

"You already said that." He planted a peck between her eyebrows, grinning back at her.

"That's because it  _is_  good." She wasn't quite tall enough to reach his face without going onto her tiptoes, so she stretched up to press her lips to the corner of his chin. Of course that made him lean down to kiss her again, and there wasn't much talking for a moment – until Meghan's stomach growled.

"Shall we?" Legolas quirked a brow at her.

"We shall," Meghan agreed, untangling herself from him and promptly sitting down to uncover the breakfast that he had brought. "I take it the Dwarves found their way here?"

"Yes," Legolas replied as he sat down across from her. "They arrived very early this morning, and wished to refresh themselves before the banquet later. Gimli sends his compliments."

"I'm glad he came." She stared absently at the spread of food in front of her, mind clearly a thousand other places. "I'm too excited to eat, but I'm  _so hungry_."

"Do as you will, but  _I_  intend to eat," Legolas said, already halfway through a roll.

Meghan popped a grape into her mouth and kicked his foot under the table with a smile. "Hey. I'm glad you're here."

"As am I," he replied, kicking her back.

She meant there in the room right then, but also just in the city at all. Between regular guard patrols and a few long trips to Ithilien, he had been gone as much as he was home during the past year. Meghan had joined him once to visit Ithilien (with Gwaethir in tow as chaperone, of course), but mostly she stayed in Nídhrond. And even though she was busy enough now that the time apart passed quickly, she still hadn't liked it.

"I hope you know," Meghan said as she tore a roll apart and contemplated if she wanted apple butter on it, "that I will probably mess up the words for the ceremony. I haven't practiced at all." (That was a lie. She'd spent hours making sure she had the translation right – Sindarin was still somewhat new to her, after all.)

"In that case, the wedding must be cancelled," Legolas said seriously – or at least he intended to be serious, except that his poker face was the worst on the planet. "Shall you tell my father, or shall I?"

Meghan decided to humour his joke if only because his smile was extra cute when he tried to hide it. "Well, if it must be done, I guess I'll tell your father and you can tell all the guests. Do you have any spare armor I could borrow? I'm pretty sure Thranduil is going to eviscerate me when–"

She had started to stand up as she spoke, affecting a melodramatic expression of being resigned to her fate, which was apparently too much for Legolas to stay in character. He burst out laughing and pulled her down into his lap to press three quick kisses in a line down her cheek. It tickled, and she involuntarily scrunched up her shoulders as she giggled.

"You both are disgusting," Alassëa announced cheerfully, coming in the door with her arms full of flowers.

"Surely it's not time to start getting ready, is it?" Meghan asked. The intrusion was hardly out of character for her soon-to-be sister, since Alassëa tended to treat any unlocked door as an invitation.

"Not just yet. I've stolen some extra flowers from the banquet hall and thought to brighten your chambers with them. Aren't they lovely?"

"So long as they are not infested with bees or some other mischief," Legolas said, only half of his suspicion feigned.

"I would  _never_." Alassëa smiled at the bouquet she had already managed to arrange on their table, tweaking some of the details. "You may be lucky today, brother. Gwaethir is so busy playing host to our many guests that he has no time for capers."

"I thought we called a truce for the wedding," Meghan protested, starting up from Legolas' chest to give him a questioning look. She had largely stayed out of the prank war that the three siblings seemed to be eternally engaged in (and Legolas seemed to be eternally  _losing_ ), which she had leveraged into a temporary peace treaty at least during her nuptials.

"As I said," Alassëa said primly, as if she hadn't flour-bombed Gwaethir's room by means of elaborate trip-wires a few weeks ago, " _I_  would never jeopardize the dignity and gravitas of such an occasion."

Meghan settled back against Legolas and fixed her with a stern face. "Just remember that I have Éowyn and Gimli on my security team."

"Pah!" Alassëa scoffed. "The shieldmaiden that slew the Witch King has earned my respect, but your Dwarvish guardian scares me not at all. Still, you have little need of such protection, since I have no intentions of disrupting the peace."

"Thank you," Meghan said, mollified by her reassuring smile. She could feel Legolas' hum of skepticism resonate in his chest under her shoulder, so she elbowed him very subtly in the ribs. Of course, since he was ticklish there, it only made him giggle – and, of course, that made her want to tickle him even more.

"You both are absolutely giddy this morning," Alassëa said with an arched brow and a grin as he shuddered away from Meghan's questing fingers, although he didn't really have anywhere to go.

"That's, because," – Meghan punctuated every word with a kiss onto Legolas' cheek, causing him to laugh again – "we're, getting,  _married_ , today!"

Alassëa threw a roll at their heads to break them apart with stunning accuracy. "You act as if your betrothal year was a century! Why, it went by in a flash!"

"Speak for yourself," Legolas muttered, and his face was so incredulous that Meghan couldn't help but laugh at him even if she completely agreed.

"By the Valar, I could hear the three of you giggling from the corridor," Gwaethir said, poking his head in the door. "Did you even notice me knocking?"

"I'm afraid not," Meghan shook her head as she wiped her eyes. "But come in anyway, there's plenty of breakfast still to share."

Gwaethir cast a calculating look down the hall in both directions before sliding into the room. "I was sent to collect the bridegroom, but I think I shall tarry awhile if there is food to be had."

"You can't take him away just yet anyway," Meghan replied with a sunny smile, slipping her arms around Legolas' neck.

"I shall not attempt it then," Gwaethir said, settling next to Alassëa on the couch and reaching for something to eat. "To be perfectly honest, it is well worth hiding for a little longer if only to imagine Ada's discomfort in hosting the embassy from Erebor unaided. I know you both performed worthy acts while on your quest, but surely the greatest was befriending a Dwarf and inviting his retinue here for your wedding!"

"I thought Gimli was resting after their journey," Legolas frowned. "I should not leave him to fend for himself against Adar–"

"Far be it from me to presume that I know your friend better than you," Gwaethir interrupted, raising a placating hand with a half-grin on his face, "but it seemed to me that Gimli was having a  _marvelous_  time insinuating that reparations should be made for past grievances, etcetera."

"Endearing himself to Ada, no doubt," Alassea said.

"All the same," Legolas said, reluctantly beginning to disengage from Meghan, "I would be a poor friend and perhaps a poor son if I did not at least offer mediation."

She couldn't argue with that, so she scooted off his lap and held out a hand to him. "I'll go with you."

"No, stay," he replied even as he took her hand and stood. "You have plans with Alassëa and Lady Éowyn later this morning. Averting a diplomatic crisis, no matter how small, should not be on your itinerary for your wedding day."

"Then I'll see you off," Meghan amended. She knew Legolas felt a little guilty for the cold way Thranduil treated her and generally did his best to shield her from any family drama. She didn't blame either one of them, though – a son can't change his father, and she had decided at some point to just see Thranduil as old and grumpy. She secretly thought that maybe, just  _maybe_ , she was winning him over, too, but it made Legolas feel better to believe he was doing something.

Alassëa quirked a brow at Gwaethir as the other two headed for the door. "Were you not sent to fetch Legolas and return with him?"

"Let me at least finish my breakfast before sending me back into the dragon's keep," Gwaethir said, hunching over his plate dramatically.

"Take your time, because I'm going to kiss your brother very thoroughly out in this hallway," Meghan smiled over her shoulder, and she just caught a glimpse of Alassëa and Gwaethir's faces wrinkling in disgust before Legolas tugged her out the door and the latch slid home behind them.

She slipped her arms around his midsection in a transparent bid to keep him with her for a little longer before his absurd sense of duty took over. "I feel like I barely got to see you this morning."

"I know," he replied, his forearms a warm and welcome weight against the small of her back. "But we have only to be patient a little while longer, since we will be seeing much more of each other this evening."

"I suppose we will." She grinned up at him. "Unless I mess up all the ceremony words and commit a terrible social misdemeanor and the wedding is called off."

"I will marry you even if you do," he said, his eyes warm and full of promise. He leaned down and kissed her slowly – and that was full of promise, too.

They very well could have continued just as they'd started, but they were interrupted by a passing maid, who startled awkwardly at the sight of them with a confused exclamation before promptly reversing course. Meghan didn't care, but it was enough for the faintest of blushes to tinge Legolas' ears.

"I should go," he murmured, resting his forehead against hers. "If I do not leave now, I never will."

"Good luck with Gimli and your dad," she replied as she ran a thumb over the edge of his collar. "I'll see you at the altar."

"Altar?" Legolas asked with that tiny, confused crinkle between his eyebrows that made her heart soar up with love for him.

"It means we're getting married today," she whispered, pulling him down to give him another lingering kiss.

"Then I will see you at the altar," he said with one last peck to her cheek before heading off down the hall. Meghan watched him go, and thought she might burst with happiness.

"You look quite blissful," came a laughing voice behind her. She startled around to see Éowyn approaching from the opposite end of the hallway with a knowing grin.

"Good morning my friend," Meghan replied as she looped her arm through Éowyn's, too cheerful to even bother defending herself against the teasing. "I'm so glad you came. Please come inside, it's just Alassëa and Gwaethir here with me now that Legolas has left. Have you eaten?"

"I have," Éowyn nodded, following Meghan inside.

"Ah, if the Nazgul Slayer is here then the hall must be safe for me to pass," Gwaethir said, standing up so that he could bow to Éowyn. Meghan appreciated that he switched easily to the Common Tongue, since Éowyn didn't speak Sindarin. "I will go to rejoin my brother. Thank you for breakfast, sister-soon."

"Please go rescue him so that he can relax today," Meghan said, wondering just how much Legolas could actually mediate a skirmish between his father and Gimli.

"I will do my best," Gwaethir sighed as he headed into the hallway.

"Good," Alassëa said once the door shut behind him. "He has left us alone at last and now Meghan can get dressed!"

"Already?" Meghan said, surprised.

"Yes," she nodded. "I gave Dúlinneth my word that we would not be late and I intend to keep it, so enough dawdling. Go change into your shift and then Lady Éowyn and I will help you into the gown. Away with you!" She shooed Meghan into the bedroom with a stern look that somewhat disturbingly echoed her father's features.

Meghan's closet was nearly empty since most of her things had been packed or moved to her new chambers, but it still held a few items, including the impossibly beautiful dress she would wear today. She skimmed past it as she reached for the underdress first, and quickly changed.

She hadn't thought that Elves were capable of lingerie, and this was pretty tame by some standards. It was made of an almost sheer, filmy material that fell just past her mid-thigh, but the neckline dipped so low that she consciously had to resist tugging it up. The seamstress who made it had explained, with a knowing smile, that untying the soft cords at her shoulders would send the dress to the floor.

Meghan poked her head out the door with a dubious frown. "I feel very naked in this."

"I believe that is the point," Éowyn laughed.

"Hmm," Meghan said as she looked down at her own cleavage.

"If you are shy, we shall avert our eyes until you are fully dressed," Alassëa said pragmatically. "But I think you will need help to put on your gown."

"True," Meghan conceded, widening the door to admit them.

The wedding dress was white at her request, with tiny green and gold gems stitched in the pattern of leaves along the hems of the skirt and the flowing sleeves. It was heavier than most of the dresses Meghan wore, so it took a little finagling to get into it, but between the three of them they managed.

"We were pleased to receive some of your people in Ithilien before we left," Éowyn said as Alassëa began the long process of lacing up the back of the dress. "How long will you and Legolas remain in Eryn Lasgalen after the wedding?"

"Just a month," Meghan replied. "Now that construction has begun on the settlement, Legolas is eager to get back there himself."

Alassëa tugged extra hard on one of the laces. "I will miss you terribly."

"Your loss is my gain, it would seem," Éowyn said. "Faramir and I look forward to having neighbors."

"Will your settlements be very close to each other?"

"Not really," Meghan said. "They're a little more than half a day's ride apart. It'll be much closer than Minas Tirith though, and obviously here."

"Well, if you must go away, then I am glad you will have friends so close," Alassëa said as she threaded through the next crossing of laces at her back.

The three women spent the next few hours talking and laughing and getting ready. At some point Dúlinneth came to tame Meghan's wild tumble of hair into soft curls and braid a finely wrought circlet around her crown. It was all very relaxed and happy, and Meghan only wished that she could have spent more of the day itself with Legolas.

But it seemed like that had been deliberate, because once she was fully transformed into as close to an Elvish bride as she would ever be, Alassëa ushered her to just outside the entrance to the wedding hall, where Legolas was waiting.

"Dúlinneth says that everything is in readiness," Alassëa said, "but there is time for the two of you to have a few moments alone before all the excitement begins. I will keep Gwaethir busy so he does not pester you!"

"Thank you, sister," Legolas said as he smiled and gave her a hand-over-heart salute.

She returned it with a winning smile, already beginning to leave. "I will see you both in a few moments."

"Hello," Meghan said to him once they were alone.

"You look beautiful," Legolas said, holding her by the fingertips at arms length so that he could get the full effect of her dress.

"So do you," Meghan grinned in reply. Luckily for her, he had somehow managed to forego the circlet that had made her laugh so much at Aragorn's coronation and wore his hair in his usual braids, although he still had to wear a long silvery robe over a high-collared tunic and leggings instead of his hunting greens.

"Will you be alright?" he asked. She had only attended a few formal events and had never felt comfortable with the level of attention her status brought.

"Hmm," she replied noncommittally, and chose instead to drape her arms around his neck with a smile.

"I will not leave your side for the whole evening," he said, turning his head to press a kiss against the inside of her elbow.

"Good," she said. "You can be my arm-candy all night."

"Sometimes your strange phrases make sense in their own way," Legolas replied as his brow crinkled in confusion, "but I cannot puzzle out 'arm-candy' at all."

Meghan had to laugh at him. "It means you are very beautiful, and I like having you close to me."

"It is a strange saying all the same," he murmured, almost against her lips, his breath warm against her skin.

"Let's get this party over with so we can get married," she whispered before closing what little distance was left between them with a kiss.

"I agree," he said as he took her hand.

Nídhrond had places both within the underground city and without for large events such as this; the outdoor area was a huge clearing that the wood elves had carefully shaped over the centuries so that there was a latticed roof of tree branches through which the sun filtered like stained glass.

As Meghan and Legolas entered the wide open space, her breath caught at how beautiful it was, all greens and golds and soft summer colours. It was already filled with elves, a marvelous cacophony of their musical voices filling the air as they talked and milled about.

Someone noticed them entering and shouted their congratulations, which of course brought the attention of everyone else. But Alassëa caught sight of them and waved them over to join the rest of the royal family.

The first hour passed in a blur. All the visiting nobles had to be received and thanked, and Meghan only knew half of them. She met the King of Dale without remembering his name immediately after he said it, and she only recognized Elladan and Elrohir because they were twins.

Gimli greeted her with loud congratulations and then introduced her to his distant cousin, who was the younger brother to the King of Erebor. She forgot his name too and only really registered that he was taller and less bearded than most Dwarves. The introductions were too fast to get much of an impression beyond that.

And of course Éowyn and Faramir were there with reassuring smiles, and they were like an oasis in the chaos of the crowd. Legolas had become fast friends with Faramir during his trips to Ithilien, and Meghan could tell how pleased he was that they had come as Gondor's emissaries since Aragorn and Arwen couldn't due to their pregnancy.

"It is time, my dears," Alassëa said, appearing at Legolas' elbow with an impish grin. "Ada bid me tell you to join him so that the ceremony can begin."

"Finally," Meghan muttered as she tucked herself strategically beside Legolas so that he had to do most of the pushing past people – who wanted to congratulate them every second step – to get across the crowd to where Thranduil was waiting for them.

There had been some negotiation about the actual wedding service itself – Elvish customs dictated that the couple returned their silver betrothal rings and exchanged golden bands instead, and then the mother of the bride and the father of the groom spoke words of blessing over the union. Of course Meghan had no parents, and she couldn't imagine getting married without saying vows of her own.

At first, Thranduil had resisted changes simply because it would appear odd to break tradition, but Legolas hadn't budged an inch as soon as Meghan said she didn't want a stand-in for her mother. So they had come to an agreement; it was unorthodox but not unprecedented for a couple to exchange words as well as rings, and it was decided to simply have Thranduil speak a very brief blessing over them to begin the ceremony.

Still, there was no aisle and no wedding party to process down one anyway, just a bower twined with spring flowers for them to stand under so that everyone could see them. Being in front of so many people made Meghan's pulse rise and she gripped Legolas' hand like a lifeline.

She was so nervous and excited that she almost completely missed everything that Thranduil said. As it was, she mostly just remembered him invoking the Valar to favour their marriage and bring them unity, peace, and joy with each other. And then he finished and turned to them, and it was their turn.

Even though Legolas had been completely on her side about speaking their own vows to each other, he hadn't actually known what she meant and had asked for clarification later in private. Meghan had tried to explain in a way that made sense for their context, since there wouldn't be a minister to prompt them with prepared words. And she knew that Legolas was very private about showing affection, so saying sappy vows would probably embarrass him. Most of the promises made in a traditional ceremony would be redundant to speak aloud for Elves anyway, since they were implied simply by the marriage itself.

But he wanted to come up with his own all the same, and had been very tight-lipped when she'd asked about it, even under threat of tickling – which was actually just fine with her, since it became something else to look forward to.

And now he faced her, her hands in his, and he looked a little shy and very, very happy. "My Meghan," he began, not quite able to suppress a grin as he said her name. "I vow to love you always. I will be your companion and your ally in all that you do. In times of trouble, I will be a shield unto you as you have been to me. I will honour you above all others and I will share in both your joys and your sorrows. It is the greatest honour of my life to wed you this day."

Meghan could have kissed him right then, but she had her own vows to get through first. "Legolas," she said, heart in her throat, in her hands, in her smile. "I take you as my husband and gladly become your wife today. You are my home and I will always work hard to be yours. Wherever we are and whatever we do, I will love you – even if it's difficult,  _especially_  when it's difficult. I will always have your back, and I will trust you to have mine. I can't wait to marry you today!"

His deep blue eyes flickered to her lips as he smiled, just about to lean down.

"Also," she stopped him with a grin, "I vow that I am never going to give you up. I'm never going to let you down. I'm never going to run around and desert you."

She could tell by the tiniest narrowing of his eyes that he knew she was trying not to laugh even though he had no idea why. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Alassëa put a hand over her heart, apparently moved by all the incredibly poignant promises being made. Meghan took a moment to look down as if overcome with emotion, but Legolas wasn't fooled. He saw her swallow a grin and squeezed her hands subtly.

"I'm never going to make you cry," she continued in a rush, just to get through it without actually laughing out loud. "I'm  _never_  going to say goodbye, and I will never tell a lie and hurt you."

There was no one to pronounce them man and wife and to tell Legolas to kiss the bride, but there hadn't been any discussion of how to end the ceremony, either. Legolas and Meghan seemed to realize this at the same moment, and he raised a brow as if to ask if she was finished with her joke.

She answered by going up on tiptoes to kiss him, framing his face with her hands so that she could feel the way his cheeks lit up with a smile against her lips. The audience erupted with cheers and whistles at the sight of their reserved and proper prince wrapping his arms around his new wife to draw her closer.

Meghan finally laughed then, hiding her face against him for a moment to giggle into his chest in private. The cheering continued as she looked back up at him, and he was laughing too. He tilted his head down to kiss her again, quicker this time.

Whether it was by some signal or just general consensus, the crowd disbursed from being an audience into a party. Meghan and Legolas were flooded with well-wishes, from Dúlinneth and Hérion's quiet grins to Alassëa's ecstatic embrace to Faramir's hearty clap on Legolas' back. Thranduil didn't say much to them, but when Meghan caught his eye he offered her the slightest of smiles and a nod.

There was an enormous banquet to be had, the biggest Meghan had ever seen, with every dish the kitchens had to offer. She had actually helped prepare some of them, since she worked in the kitchens a few days a week.

And then when the sun went down and the space was illuminated by hundreds of silver and golden lanterns, the dancing started. Some of them were partnered and some were in groups, and Meghan danced them all. After the first dance with Legolas, she was asked by Gwaethir, and then someone else, and then she passed Legolas along a line during one, and then she partnered with someone else – and it wasn't until much later that evening, when at last the lively tunes gave way to a softer, slower melody, that they found each other again.

"May I?" Legolas asked, holding out a hand.

Meghan took one more sip of water and set down her cup. "I  _finally_ get a slow prom dance with you."

"Prom?" He drew her into his arms and into the gentle cadence of the music.

"A strange tradition from my world," she explained, just glad to be close to him again after a couple hours with others. "This is much more fun."

"And as enjoyable as this is," he said with a shy smile, "have you given any thought to leaving?"

"I thought you'd never ask," Meghan replied, eyeing around the huge room for the best exit strategy. "So do we just go, or…?"

"If you wish to withdraw from this gathering unscathed, it is best for us to depart separately," he said in a low voice.

"What do you mean?"

"If we are seen leaving together, there will surely be a – commotion."

Meghan could easily imagine the level of good-natured whistling, cheering, and general mayhem that would accompany their departure if they  _did_  draw attention to it, and blanched. "I thought Elves were a dignified people, above such juvenile antics."

"Not these Elves," Legolas grinned. "At the last wedding here, the couple was applauded nearly to their chamber door."

"No thanks," she grimaced.

"I thought perhaps after we finish this dance, you would discretely leave while I remain a few moments longer to allay suspicion."

"Good plan." She ran a thumb along the line of his jaw. "Just don't stay here  _too_  long."

"I do not intend to," he said, capturing her hand so that he could kiss the inside of her wrist.

The song was winding down and another, livelier tune was beginning, so Meghan pecked him quickly on the lips. "Right, I'm off. If anyone asks, I'm going to pee."

"I will see you shortly," he said as she turned away, holding onto her hand for the longest time possible before she slipped away.

The walk back to the interior of Nídhrond was quick and dappled by the starlight that filtered through the canopy of leaves above. Meghan passed only a few servers as she hurried through the halls, but they all smiled and looked away when she passed.

Their new suite was still in the royal wing, but a completely different part than where she had lived the past year. Because they would only be there a month before moving to Ithilien, they had been given the little-used guest quarters on a level below the main area. Meghan half-expected the rooms to be booby-trapped as some capricious prank by Legolas' siblings, but there was nothing out of the ordinary when she let herself in.

The space reminded her more of a studio apartment than anything else, since it was one big room with moveable screens to divide it. There was a clearly defined sitting room immediately upon entering, which flowed into a dining area. Bookshelves and a desk tucked into one corner looked like a study, and there was a door which led to a small lavatory. And of course the centerpiece at the far end of the room was the huge bed, draped with gossamer canopy and looking very inviting.

Meghan took one moment to examine her reflection in the mirror over the dresser, smiling as she made a secret pact with herself to remember this always. Then she reached up to unpin the circlet from her hair and shook out the curls that had been swept around it.

_I hope Legolas doesn't get stuck at the party,_  she thought as she sat on the edge of the bed, not really sure what to do now. She could easily imagine some well-meaning guest trapping him in polite conversation – or worse. Why exactly the wood elves seemed to enjoy what she could only describe as hazing was completely beyond her.

But she didn't have anything to worry about, because a moment later Legolas slipped in the door. Either he hadn't waited long before following her, or he had run most of the way.

"Hello, husband," Meghan said, grinning and blushing a little and suddenly not quite sure what to do with her hands.

"Not husband  _yet_ ," he replied as he came over and leaned down to give her a lingering kiss.

"Let's change that." She stood and turned around in one movement so that her back was to him, sweeping her hair over one shoulder. "I can't reach the laces myself."

He smoothed a stray curl out of the way, his fingertips featherlight across the top of her spine. And then his lips followed where his fingers had been as he slowly loosened the first knot at the back of her dress.

At first Meghan didn't notice anything, because she was too distracted by his lips on the sensitive hollow where her jaw met her neck. But she began to realize that he was spending less effort in kissing and increasingly more effort in unlacing – and he wasn't making much progress in either department. Finally he moved a pace back and devoted his entire attention to the ties of her dress.

"What's the matter?" she said.

"How did you lace up this dress?" he asked, sounding puzzled.

"I didn't." Meghan tried to twist her head around to see, but of course it was futile. "Alassëa helped me into it, why?"

At the sound of his sister's name, Legolas slumped so much that he rested his forehead on Meghan's shoulder. "She double-knotted it at each crossing. There must be three dozen knots at least."

" _Ah_ ," Meghan said, frozen at the idea of being prisoner to her own dress. They paused like this for a moment, leaning against each other in mutual dejection. "She  _did_  promise not to prank us during just the  _ceremony_."

"I have an idea," Legolas said, stepping back to slip a long dagger out of his boot.

"Now hang on a second," Meghan replied, reaching behind her back to try her hand at the laces herself – but they were tied fast, and it would require the patience of a saint to unravel the intricate knots.

"I will not hurt you," Legolas said with a wounded look.

Now that she thought about it, he had a slightly desperate air about him.  _We've waited so long for this and now I can't get naked,_  she thought mournfully.

"I know you won't," she said in what she hoped was a reassuring tone. "But this is my wedding dress. If you cut me out of it, it'll be ruined forever  _and_  Alassëa will know she won. Just… I think I can get it over my head."

"Would it not be possible for a seamstress to mend it?" Legolas was obviously trying to sound reasonable, and failing spectacularly.

"Just let me try to shimmy out of it." Meghan took a deep breath to give herself as much room as possible to wiggle one arm out of its sleeve and into the bodice. "Come here, you might have to help."

Legolas tucked the knife back into his boot and came over, looking lost. She managed to wedge her other arm into the same position as the first before she realized that she had made a fatal error.

"I seem to be stuck – no no wait!" She backed away again as Legolas reached for his dagger. She took a moment to muster all of her feminine allure, doing her best to look seductive instead of absolutely ridiculous. "You can just… pull it off over my head."

They stared at each other for a moment.

Legolas hesitantly gathered some of the loose fabric at her shoulders and gave an experimental tug. "This is not how I imagined undressing you on our wedding night," he said with a rueful smile.

The dress was starting to slide up her body, although somehow the dark underdress stayed put – a fact for which Meghan was unutterably grateful, because at least she could remove  _something_  without looking like a complete idiot. The room went dark as Legolas carefully lifted the dress over her head. It took a little wriggling when the fitted waist almost got stuck on her shoulders, until a moment later she reappeared, flushed with embarrassment and her hair all askew.

Earlier she had been a little unsure about the underdress, but now Legolas was drinking in the sight of her as if he had never seen her before. The intensity in his eyes did unspeakable things to the pit of Meghan's stomach. She stood, frozen, the blush in her cheeks deepening as he studied her. Then he lunged forward to capture her lips in the most scorching kiss she had ever experienced, his lean body a white hot brand against her.

Suddenly she realized that he was wearing too many clothes, and she fumbled at the clasps of his formal robe. It took a few moments, because he was no help at all with the way his hands were teasing her body, but finally she undid the fastenings and pushed the robe off his shoulders. That left him in a silver tunic and dark leggings, which was a little better – but still not good enough.

Dimly she started to become aware of something that seemed a little out of place. Was that  _music_? How could there be music? She broke away from Legolas to listen better and he made a noise of protest, until he heard it too. Sure enough, the sounds of several harps and at least two violins grew louder by the minute outside the door.

"What is that?" she whispered just as a familiar voice began to sing.

" _Nin anneva darion hen îr anon_ …"

"Is that Gwaethir?" she said, fighting the sudden urge to laugh purely at the absurdity of the situation.

It seemed like Legolas was counting backwards in Quenya. "I will kill him."

" _Ídh cenai mathale suimathan_ …"

"If we're very quiet, maybe he'll think he was mistaken and that we aren't here," Meghan suggested.

"He knows we are," Legolas groaned. "He saw me leave. I should never have trusted him."

"Yes, you definitely should have knocked him out and tied him to a tree to preserve our secret." The situation was so absurd that she was struggling not to laugh, and Legolas' complete despair wasn't helping her keep a straight face.

" _Tolo, tolo, tolo ar nin_ …"

"What's he singing, anyway?"

"It is a rough translation of a bawdy song from Laketown," he ground out as he strode to the door. "Excuse me a moment."

Meghan moved across the room a little so that her revealing dress wouldn't be visible from the doorway. It meant she couldn't see what was happening out in the hallway, but the music instantly became louder once Legolas opened the door.

" _Nai gwaem caro puhtalë, gwennig_  – Ah, brother!" Gwaethir sounded immensely cheerful. "What, still dressed?"

The instruments all abruptly ceased as she heard the distinct sound of a punch connecting with a jaw.

A moment later, Legolas reappeared inside the door and shut it very deliberately behind him.

Meghan had clamped both hands over her mouth, partly in shock and partly to contain her laughter. She met his eyes across the room and fought down a giggle, that ended up escaping as a strangled snort anyway. At first Legolas looked tense, but her bright eyes made him crack a little.

"This is not funny," he said, trying not to smile.

"You sure showed him," Meghan said. She wasn't particularly worried about Gwaethir; the two brothers had done worse to each other both in sparring sessions and friendly scuffles. The only reason there had been just a single blow landed was probably a testament to Legolas' haste to return.

"It was effective," he said. "The music stopped, did it not?"

"Yes, it did," she agreed. She closed the distance between them to drape her arms around his neck, sliding the door's lock home over his shoulder as she did. "Now, where were we?"

"I love you, my Meghan," he whispered against her lips as she started to unfasten the closures down the front of his tunic, his eyes dark and not quite believing that this was happening.

"I love you too," she replied, pushing it off his shoulders. He shrugged out of the sleeves and cupped her face with his hands, and she smiled into his kisses, because she was finally,  _finally_  going to get him naked.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those who are musically interested, this chapter's soundtrack is the Rac Remix of On Top of the World by Imagine Dragons, which is almost inextricably linked to this story ever since Amelia introduced it to me when i visited New Zealand a couple years ago.
> 
> Sidenote: I borrowed bits and bobs from the Native American Rite of Seven Steps and also Morgan Llywelyn's Celtic Wedding Vow, both of which are beautiful. Also, if anyone wants to know the translation of the song Gwaethir was singing let me know in a review ho ho ho
> 
> You may have noticed that this was posted on the ten year anniversary since I published chapter one of the original Awkward Adventures. No matter how long you have been with this story, thank you for reading, friends. :)


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